


so near creation

by Hermaline75



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Bottom Thor, Class Differences, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Portraits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 44,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermaline75/pseuds/Hermaline75
Summary: Loki is employed to paint portraits of Odin and his family.He's not fully prepared for all the ulterior motives though...
Relationships: Loki/Thor
Comments: 1152
Kudos: 462





	1. Preparations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writernotwaiting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/gifts).



> I was writing something else, but it wasn't quite working so I have taken an idea kindly lent to me by writernotwaiting. Who knows if this is the kind of thing you had in mind? Hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> (Also I have not seen Portrait of a Lady on Fire but I can't deny stealing an idea or two from it.)

A commission. That's all it was. A rich family - rich through war, apparently, not through lineage particularly - requiring portraits. And though they were rich, it seemed they were also careful with their money as Loki could not claim to be the most expensive or prestigious of artists. If he were looking for a painter for the first time, he might go for someone more well-known.

He was a hard worker, though. He would provide a fair likeness, fairly quickly. And it was a large commission, too; four portraits at standard three-quarter size. Much more than Loki was used to doing all at once. It seemed his new employer had seen one of his works in an acquaintance's house and had tracked him down.

A great honour, no doubt, but Loki still had some apprehension in his stomach as an imposing mansion came into view. He knew nothing of the family really. Mother, father, a daughter and a son told him very little in fact.

He knew how to approach people. He had to know, had to quickly develop a sense of trust with his sitters in order to get a degree of truth from them. It made them easier to paint. But charming women and flattering men was one thing, knowing at least something to give him a starting point was something else.

He tried not to worry too much as he stepped out of the carriage - sent to collect him from the stagecoach - gazing up at the building. Lots of windows seemed promising. Plenty of natural light. That would help.

"Mr Laufeyson, the artist?" a man asked, striking and dark, extraordinary eyes. Loki found he was often drawn to that feature. You had to learn to read them, to see character within them and recreate it. These eyes were tricky, guarded. An unusual shade of brown, almost gold.

He bowed.

"Indeed, sir."

"Heimdall. I'm the butler here. Sir Odin will meet you presently in the drawing room. Come in."

It was a fine house. Very fine. The room he was shown into was full of walnut furniture and beautiful fabrics. Curtains, chairs, rugs, all complementary. Loki was particularly taken by a large floral embroidery piece, big but very delicate, the flowers' names neatly picked out in thin thread. Wood sorrel, violet, primrose, honeysuckle, crocus... It would have taken hours by a skilled needleworker.

"Mr Laufeyson, I presume," a voice said behind him, turning to find his hand already seized and shaken.

Unusual. Most men of this rank would not practise such an action with one below them in society. He had but one eye, a sharp blue that seemed to read all of the world in a single glance. His other was covered by a patch, a line from the tie marking his silver hair in a neat wave. He had the air of a man who was always at ease, and yet there was a degree of concern in his face too. Barely perceptible but definitely there.

"Sir," Loki said, nodding. "Delighted to meet you. I was just admiring your existing artwork."

"Ah, yes. Designed and made by my good lady wife. She's very fond of nature and such. Now, when can you begin?"

Such a blunt question. Loki was rather taken aback.

"I have sent my canvases and equipment by courier to arrive after me. They should be here in a few days at most. In the meantime, I can embark on preliminary sketches and begin work on composition."

"Excellent, excellent."

He didn't really seem to know what he needed to ask, Loki felt. This was his first portrait, as suspected. Perhaps he needed a little guidance.

"It would be helpful to know what sort of style you are looking for," Loki said. "Potential settings, allegorical elements and the like."

"Allegory? Oh, I'm not sure about that. What kind of allegory?"

"Well, just as an example, given the lady of the house has great knowledge of flowers, I might paint her with garlands and other symbols of Flora, the Roman goddess, to reflect something of her skills and interests."

A nod, just a hair too rapid. Too fast.

"Ah. Ah, yes. Yes, I think that could work."

He seemed... troubled. Like there was something else he wanted to suggest.

"Of course, I am always open to further instruction," Loki said carefully. "They are your portraits after all. It's your decision."

Odin paused for a moment and then took himself over to a large chair, gesturing for Loki to sit opposite him.

"May I speak frankly?" he asked.

"Of course, sir."

He paused for a little while, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair and then stopping very suddenly.

"I was like you when I was your age. A mister, I mean, rather than a sir. I was given my rank and riches and I have tried my best to be worthy of them. But, well... I cannot say that this life of privilege is entirely natural to me. I want to prepare my family for their future in high society. Do you follow?"

"Not entirely, sir."

"Well... You see, I have two children. A son and a daughter. Thor can be a little headstrong and brash, but I trust he will mellow as he settles into manhood. But Hela... I worry about her."

"In what way?"

"Thor will inherit the house, the land, and he'll run it well, I have no doubt. He loves it, loves the people dearly. But I worry Hela will resent him for it. She is the elder, but that... That isn't how the world works. She ought to move on and live her own life. I want to have her wed to a suitable gentleman. That is the purpose of the picture."

Loki felt his bubbling unease take a distinct step upwards.

"A betrothal portrait? With respect, sir, that was not your specification when you wrote to me. I didn't realise that was what you wanted."

"She is not to know," Odin said. "That is absolutely crucial. She is rather resistant to even the idea of being married. I am using the other paintings as a sort of cover, if you understand me, so she doesn't suspect. But I wish you to paint her well. Make her look... well."

"I always do my best, sir."

"I'm sure you do, but... Look, she is rather tempestuous. I would be grateful if that did not come across too strongly."

Hm. Loki thought he understood, for all it would be difficult to make his painting a lie. He could only do his best.

He definitely didn't like this though. He had painted betrothal portraits before but they were very different to his usual work. More formal, less a representation of the actual woman and her appearance as what she represented; money, connections and the like.

But Odin didn't necessarily know that. And if the girl was pretty then it wouldn't really matter. She would easily attract attention through that alone.

And it was a large, valuable commission...

"When can I meet with your family?"


	2. First Meeting

Odin had him settle in first. Heimdall showed him to his room, a modest spare chamber, plenty big enough for him. Loki always felt somewhat uneasy when he had to stay in great houses. His was an unusual position; he was not a guest but he was not a servant or a workman either. He seldom ate with the family but he wasn't often welcome to eat with the household staff either. He was too close to the masters for them to feel comfortable with him.

It was a rather solitary life, for all that he was often alone with people for long periods trying to get under their skin in order to paint their skin.

Still, he would be very comfortable. The bed was large and very soft, topped with a beautiful coverlet. For a moment, Loki threw himself upon it, enjoying this luxury. Mm... Well, at least he'd sleep well while he was here.

He set about unpacking, hanging up and putting away his clothes, laying out his razor and soap by the ablution basin, inspecting his charcoal and brushes, making sure they had travelled well. They were rather valuable, everything from tough bristle brushes for rough outlines to thin weasel-hair points for the lightest details. Pigment could be replaced and ordered, but he liked his tools to be organised and always carried them with him.

He ate the meal brought to him and read for part of the evening, his mind really wandering over which classical allusions he could make of the family.

Flora was all very well, but she was also something of a minor deity. Maybe she wasn't suitable. He could paint Odin as Jupiter and his wife as Juno, but given the gods' tumultuous relationship and lack of fidelity, maybe not.

And then the children... Hela was clearly the more important subject. Ought he make her a Venus and attempt to hook a husband that way? It would depend upon her looks, he supposed. It might be difficult. And then again, this was really for the father; it shouldn't be overtly sensual in that way. A tricky line to walk.

Minerva then? Suggesting wisdom and intelligence, fine qualities in a wife. Then again, from what he knew of most noblemen, many of them couldn't care less what went on behind their lady's face so long as it was pretty.

Vesta perhaps, hearth and home, suitable for the lady of the house?

He would have to wait and meet her, see if anything leapt out at him.

And then this son. Odin hadn't mentioned too much about him, just that he was a little hot-headed. Loki wasn't even sure of his age. It would be rather ridiculous to paint a twelve year old as Mars.

The next morning, armed with paper to begin some rough outlines, his smaller easel and some examples from previous work, Loki was shown to the room that would be his studio for the next little while. A good, south facing area, large windows, some chaises and couches already set up in readiness.

He'd certainly worked in worse places.

He turned as soon as the door opened, bowing more out of force of habit than anything else.

"So," Odin was saying. "This is our artist, Mr Loki Laufeyson. Very accomplished, very skilled. I'm sure he'll do a wonderful job."

Loki looked up, taking in the wife first of all. She had a kind face; that struck him first, and then the intelligence evident in her eyes. This was the woman who had designed this house, he felt. Maybe he felt a faint kinship with her, a sense that she was a fellow artist.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, inclining her head gently, taking her husband's hand and sweeping over to the largest couch.

The elegance of her movements was very striking and Loki found himself wondering how to capture some of that dynamism in a still portrait. Folds of cloth, a sense of motion.

"I still don't see why we have to have such things," a harsher voice said, Hela he realised. "We never have before."

She stalked past him as Odin said something about social standing and recording for posterity, sitting down in a flounce of dark green silk and meeting Loki's gaze with an arresting boldness.

She was beautiful, he saw that much instantly, but it was a spiky kind of beauty, like frost or rose thorns. He could see a Minerva in those cheekbones but perhaps not a Venus; such warm emotions as love and affection seemed a little distant.

But perhaps she would soften once she got to know him. He'd perhaps have to work hard to gain her trust, but that was alright.

Before he really knew what was happening, his hand had been taken and was being thoroughly shaken. Like father like son, it seemed, a common habit.

"Hello! Wonderful to meet you. I've really been looking forward to this."

Well, he certainly wasn't twelve. By Loki's estimation, he had already settled into manhood by some years. They were probably about the same age actually.

A name slipped through his brain immediately and, to his shame, it was not Mars or Neptune or Vulcan or any of the other usual masculine deities.

No.

It was Eros, god of desire.


	3. Outlines

Loki did not consider himself to have particularly rigid tastes when it came to men, and yet he had seldom seen a man more closely aligned to them. That hair... The finest Indian Yellow pigment could not capture it correctly. He would surely have to lace his oils with shavings of gold leaf to match the way sunlight was catching in those waves.

And the eyes... Blue was clearly a family trait, but there was something else there, something intriguing. Maybe he was being misled by every other thing about Thor's face and figure, but he could see a spark in there, something he wanted to find out all about...

He realised he was staring and dropped his eyes to the floor, clearing his throat.

"It's an honour to be invited to capture your likenesses," he said. "Thank you in advance for your patience. It can be rather a slow process. I'll mainly be doing preliminary sketches today and agreeing a seating style with each of you. Order does not particularly matter, but individually would be best."

"Ladies first," Odin said, slightly pointedly.

Hela folded her arms immediately.

"I'm not sure if I want this at all," she said. "I'd rather see some others first and then decide whether I like them."

"I have some examples of my work..." Loki began.

"But unless I know the sitters, how can I judge whether they are a true likeness?"

She had a point perhaps. But Frigga smiled, spreading peace over the whole room.

"Well, I'd love to go first," she said.

Part of Loki was relieved that he wouldn't be starting with the more troublesome of his subjects, even as he was slightly disappointed not to be given more time to gaze at Thor. But it was better this way. He'd be able to prepare himself and hide his admiration.

You had to be careful with such things after all.

He was left alone with Frigga, her voice very clear and soft as he set up his easel and laid out a fresh sheet of paper.

"My husband tells me you are an educated man," she said.

"Oh, er... Not particularly, my lady. I have read about classical themes and personages to be able to utilise such things in my art, but I have no real qualifications beyond painter's tests. If I may, I have here some examples of poses for you to consider."

It was a time saving tool really, his little collection of sketched figures. It meant he could show rather than describe the best positions and it meant he wouldn't touch the sitters at all. He had no intention of being accused of any impropriety by laying his hands on anyone. Wives and daughters especially.

For Frigga, he liked the idea of having her standing by the window, the green land visible beside her. Her land. And then he could add some relevant flowers to her hair and around the scene, a little colour to help liven it up, bring out her eyes and complexion. He began sketching a rough outline, the basic positioning, more for scale than details as yet.

"Have you any kind of symbols or motifs you'd like to include?" Loki asked. "I noted your embroidery downstairs. We could include craft materials. Or if you have any favourite historical or classical allusions you'd like to suggest?"

She seemed to consider this, gazing out with a faintly quizzical expression. Loki longed to draw it, to show that thoughtfulness so clearly. Alas, deviating from the standard slight smile was often frowned upon.

"Could I have a think about it?" she asked.

"Certainly. Such trinkets don't need to be present at the sittings and the nature of the paint means alterations can be made very late."

He was beginning to refine his composition with thinner lines, the figure before the window, her hand resting delicately on the sill.

"I'm curious about the process in general," she said. "For how much time will you need us?"

"Oh, not very much. I generally paint the face with the sitter present and an outline of the body, but the rest I can do from memory and imagination."

She smiled at him, her eyes on the movement of his arm with the charcoal. And then she looked away again, a slight tension in her jaw.

"Has my husband told you the purpose of these paintings?"

Loki hesitated. Was he supposed to know at all? Was it a secret?

She sighed lightly when he didn't reply.

"He thinks I don't know," she said. "But I do. I realise his plan."

"What do you think about it?"

"I would prefer if he weren't so underhand, though I understand why he is doing this. It may come to nothing. Besides, I think portraits will be a good addition to the house regardless. I rather like the idea of my great-grandchildren being able to look upon us and know us a little, see our faces. That's the point, isn't it? To be remembered?"

"I believe so, my lady."

"Of course, that's assuming we have great-grandchildren at all," she said. "Neither Hela nor Thor seem particularly inclined to settling down just yet."

"Does that trouble you?"

"I want them to be happy."

She had a great warmth to her, seeming very open and honest even so early in their acquaintance. Loki found himself wondering what she was really trying to tell him, whether she wanted him to refuse Odin's push for a betrothal portrait.

"I think I have enough to make a start now," he said. "When my canvases arrive, we can begin the proper work but for now you can decide if this suits."

Despite the comfortable pose, she stretched her arm from slight stiffness as she crossed the room.

"Goodness. Funny how such few lines can really show how the final product will be. A great skill. You must have worked at it."

"Thank you."

"Shall I send in Thor?" she asked. "I expect Hela will want some evidence that the other portraits are not a ruse before she submits to it, but he'll be keen."

"Um," Loki said, clearing his throat. "Perhaps in about half an hour or so. I don't want to interrupt his day too much. Whenever he's ready will be fine."

She nodded and left him to his sketches.


	4. Awkwardness

Loki tried to get a grip on himself. Yes, alright, so Thor was very handsome, but there were handsome men all over the world. Yes, it would be pleasant to work on such an easy subject; there would be no need to tweak any imperfections or emphasise any features over others. A true likeness would be enough.

But all the same, this was a portrait just like any other. He couldn't afford to offend. Strictly professional.

All the same, he felt a slight fluttering in his stomach when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Heimdall entered with a tray. Loki tried not to be disappointed.

"The young master thought you might appreciate some light refreshment. He's been out on the estate and informs me that he is just changing quickly and he'll be with you."

"Thank you."

Tea was actually very welcome. Two cups and a jug of milk, fine china with a blue willow pattern. Very stylish. Very expensive, if Loki was any judge. He remained a little confused by their financial situation. If they could afford this, they could afford a more prestigious artist than him.

Then again, maybe they had carefully chosen them for their high quality. Maybe he ought to feel complimented to be deemed similarly valuable.

He was gently sipping his tea and clenching and unclenching his hand when the door opened behind him.

"Hello! Sorry to keep you waiting. I thought maybe mud-spattered trousers wouldn't be appropriate. How's the tea? I'm parched."

Loki watched him pour, watched him take a deep gulp, his eyes on the way his throat moved, on how carefully he handed such delicate objects despite his large hands.

"I wasn't waiting, don't worry. There's always something to keep me busy. Shall we discuss your composition?"

Professional... Professional, professional, professional.

"It's all gods and goddesses, isn't it? I think I'd make a good Bacchus, but I think Father might find me out much too easily if you paint me spreadeagled across a chaise lounge."

What an image. Loki tried very hard not to let it take root in his head.

"You have a classical education?" he asked instead.

"Oh, goodness, no. My teachers and tutors did their very best, but I never really took to it. Always wanted to be working on practical things or at least things I thought I could use in my day-to-day. I refreshed my memory after Father mentioned it though. I wanted to be prepared."

And he picked the god of wine and fertility and theatre and ritual madness...

"Well, it's not necessarily about that," Loki said. "It's about how you want to be portrayed. What objects and themes you want around you. What your passions are."

Did he imagine the way Thor's eyebrows quirked at that?

Snap out of it, Loki. He was a rich young man, used to the finer things in life, no doubt thinking of champagne and truffles and definitely not inappropriate men.

Not that there were really appropriate men anyway...

"What would you choose?" Thor asked. "For yourself I mean."

That was an unexpected question. He'd never really thought about it.

"Well, paint, of course. Books. Some of the tools of my trade like powdered pigments and brushes. Demonstrating to anyone who sae it exactly what I am. It's much the same for any profession. If I were painting an ambassador, I would surround him with maps and papers; for an architect, it would be plans and designs. So the question is what would suit you."

Thor shrugged, smiling and shaking his head as he put hid cup down.

"Alas, I fear I'm fairly useless. My role in life is just to wait and inherit the estate. I don't have any skills or anything like that."

"But you must have interests. On the estate today, what were you doing? Just riding out? Equestrianism is a common theme."

A little head tilt as Thor sat on the larger couch.

"I'd rather not be common," he said. "I was helping with a ditch that needed dredged. You can never have too many arms pulling the ropes."

Oh. Oh, he meant he was literally practical. The actual day-to-day estate issues. That was somewhat surprising; Loki couldn't imagine some of the other people he'd painted knowing anyone of the lives of their workers, let alone lending a hand.

He wasn't totally sure how well he could include it in a portrait though...

"Shall we look at postures to start with?"

He ended up sitting on the couch beside Thor with his portfolio, close enough to feel the faint warmth from his flesh, see his eyelashes even. He cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure about the seated ones," Thor said. "I think I'd rather stand. It's more... stately."

Loki duly tucked the rejected examples to the back, leaving a variety of slightly stilted poses.

"Do I... have to pick one?" Thor asked.

"Not at all. They're ideas, that's all. The most important thing is that you're comfortable. Whatever feels natural."

Alas, despite his physique and his obvious charms, it seemed difficult for Thor to stand well. He seemed tense.

After a while of Loki trying to suggest alterations to his stance, mainly fruitlessly, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Why don't you just move me? You know what works."

Oh, no...

"Certainly," Loki heard himself say.


	5. Positioning

This was torture like Loki had never known. He'd never felt this way towards anyone he'd ever painted before.

Of course, generally he was painting older subjects or family groups, sometimes children, but it wasn't like he'd never painted anyone of his own age before.

There was just something about Thor. Some draw he felt, some compulsion to be near him. And touching him was not helping.

"I think you'd suit an outdoor setting," Loki said, trying to turn his arms into a better position - and what arms they were, firm beneath his hands. "But it's not always practical to paint outside, even in summer. If we treat the doorframe as a tree trunk, I can create the scene later."

Thor stood with his shoulders square to the wall, the way no one would with an actual tree, Loki turning him slightly for a three-quarter angle, still not fully satisfied. Something just... wasn't right.

Swallowing hard, he seized Thor's hips, twisting them just so...

A few steps back and it still looked wrong. Too staged, like a poor quality statue. He wanted something living, something with the dynamism he could see in every cell of Thor's body. Being still just didn't suit him.

"Try walking towards me," he said, retreating across the room. "And stop when I say."

It took a few attempts, but eventually Thor managed to pause with one foot forward, striding with purpose, Loki hurriedly sketching out his body. Broad shoulders, a trim waist, thighs and arms and neck and hair.

He had a strange urge to paint him in a rainstorm with water rushing through his clothes, those blonde locks swept back roughly. A ridiculous thought, really. Portraits were for looking one's best, not for looking like a drowned rat.

"Are there parts of the estate you feel particular fondness for?" he asked. "Fields, gardens? A real landscape I can base the painting on?"

"Um... Well, I love it all, really. It's home. I suppose I like to walk by the lake sometimes. It's peaceful there, among the willows. I can usually get some time alone if I need it."

"Are there swans?"

Thor chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

"Sometimes. Mostly just ordinary mallards if there are any birds though. Why?"

"The god Apollo is associated with swans, amongst other things. He might suit you."

"Is he one of the handsome ones?"

Something odd throbbed somewhere in Loki's cheeks, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, Poseidon and so on are always so beardy you can hardly see their faces. You'd think there were no scissors on Mount Olympus. He's not one of those, is he?"

Loki's mind raced with all the things he never told his pickier clients about Apollo: mentions in the old texts of beauty and smooth skin, of limbs and hair and a face that could enrapture men and women alike. That sometimes he loved men in return...

"No," he said carefully. "No, as you say, he's one of the handsome ones."

"Oh, good. That's alright, then."

Loki sketched out the rest of the rough preparation drawing, his first idea of how it would look. This part was fairly easy for him. It was the details that made things tricky. You had to work fat over lean when it came to oils, building up layers of paint to create the final image.

"I can show you it, if you like," Thor said.

"Hmm?"

"The lake. I'd be happy to show you. When you're not busy."

"Oh. Well, I believe I'll start work on the portraits of your father and sister this afternoon, but maybe..."

"Are you not planning to stop to eat?"

"Well, yes. I often work while I'm eating though. But perhaps tomorrow morning..."

He liked that smile. Really liked it. There was an openness and an honesty to it, so pleased to have the chance to...

Well, what? To spend time with someone his own age, probably. Loki was wary, though. They were not of the same rank. He was employed in this house, not a guest. He had to earn his way. He had neither the time nor the right to socialise.

Then again, if it was to draw out the setting for the portrait then perhaps it was justified?

He usually drew in a rough background but he left this one empty. If he was going to paint a real place then he didn't want to put any imaginary composition into his mind.

"I'll look forward to it," Thor said.


	6. Hela

"Since I seem to have no choice in the matter, you'll paint me as Artemis."

Loki was slightly taken aback. He was used to being ordered around to an extent, used to having instructions more often than suggestions, but he rarely had someone so bluntly state what they wanted mere seconds after walking into the room.

Hela was a force of nature, he knew that immediately. He'd spent only a relatively short time with Odin; for all that he was unsure about portraits, he turned out to be a natural sitter. He had a quiet dignity, a presence that softly took control of a room. Loki didn't feel that he knew him, though, even shallowly. His light early questions about his military career had been answered politely but with no expansion.

Hela on the other hand...

"Goddess of the hunt," he said, just a hair uncertainly. "And of the moon and wild animals."

"Exactly so. Do you know the myth of Actaeon?"

Loki hesitated slightly.

"Well, er... Yes, the hunter who sees Artemis bathing in the woods."

"And is turned into a stag and torn apart by his own dogs for such an infraction. That's the kind of impression I want to put across. Can you paint dogs?"

"I... Yes, I have some examples here of spaniels, greyhounds, lap dogs..."

She looked at his sketches with an air of suspicion, but she seemed broadly impressed. Dogs were much harder than people, in Loki's opinion. It could be difficult to convince them to sit still.

"Excellent. I'd like my hound to be included."

"Of course. What breed is it?"

"A German Mastiff. Bred for hunting boar and bears. But he's a soppy thing really."

Loki did not believe that even remotely when she brought the animal up for him to see. For one thing, he was enormous, the length of a man, and tall too, black as a shadow. He did not want to so mych as risk upsetting him.

But with her baring, Hela matched such a pet, circling around her protectively and gazing up at her with pure adoration.

"Did you raise him?" Loki asked, already seeing something of an idea, an image of her with her faithful dog by her side.

"Of course. He was a present. From Frigga."

"Your mother?"

The look could have curdled milk instantly but then softened a little.

"She's not my mother. She's Thor's mother. But she tries her best, I suppose."

Hm. There was a degree of tension there. Loki elected not to pry just yet. He'd let her decide if she wanted to disclose anything about their relationship herself. At present, he was still trying to gain her trust.

He drew her as she wished, sketching out a composition very much as she was, a quiet moment for a huntress, her hand gently stroking her dog's head and looking out almost daringly upon the viewer.

It would be very striking, if he could pull it off. Maybe he'd also draw her outside, tying into that sense of wildness.

Would the father be happy though? That question had to be in the back of his mind. Odin was the one paying him and he had a very specific commission in mind. He wanted a painting that could be sent to a potential suitor to convince them to pursue Hela's hand.

But she wouldn't allow him to paint her at all if she didn't like it...

"Something like this?" he asked, showing her his basic sketch, his fingers stained with charcoal dust.

Her judgement made him more nervous than any critic, any of his teachers. Her tight gaze, the mistrust on her face. Her dog nudged into Loki's side, moving him slightly away from his mistress.

"Can I see the others?" she asked after a while.

"Of course."

She looked at them for a long, long time.

"They're all different," she said after a while.

"Uh... Uh, yes. To match each of you and the kind of portrait you each want."

She seemed somewhat soothed by that. Reassured to see them.

"I hope you're as good at painting as you are at sketching."

"Thank you. I do my best."

She nodded vaguely.

"Well. I'll do my best to be available for you to paint but I make no guarantee."

It felt like a truce. That was the best way he could describe it.

He ate dinner alone in his room, thinking about lakes and swans.

And other things that he tried very hard not to think of.


	7. Setting Up

The knock on his door was unexpected. Loki was glad to be already up and more or less ready for the day. For some reason, he'd been spending rather a lot of time trying to pick out which cravat to wear. As if it mattered! As if Thor would notice!

"Your packages have arrived," Heimdall said. "I've put them in the studio."

"Oh, excellent," Loki said, snatching up a simple black one and looping it around his neck. "Thank you."

There was a slight pause, a slight awkwardness.

"Thor seems to think you're planning to accompany him to the lake today."

"Uh, yes. It's where he wants his portrait set. I'll be sketching it as a background and seeking a landscape for Hela's as well."

It was the truth. That was why he was going.

"I worry sometimes that he is lonely," Heimdall said. "He has very little society of his own age."

What did that mean? Was it encouragement to be Thor's friend? Or was it just the opposite, a warning about overstepping boundaries? Of being aware that while Thor might want it, he was not to indulge him in his quest for companionship?

"I'm sure my being here will provide him with some diversion for a few months," Loki said carefully. "Though, of course, I will be working the majority of the time."

It wasn't like he was planning to do anything anyway. Thor seemed boisterous and friendly and he would be easy to talk to, but it would be rather a fleeting thing. Loki was here to paint, mostly by himself, and when he was finished, he would leave. Hopefully onto another commission to keep him fed.

"I really ought to prepare the canvases before going out," Loki said. "Could you inform him that I will join him in about two hours, maybe three? And I'll need a fire and a pot of water, if I could."

It made sense to do this now. His frames were just as he had ordered, strong oak rectangles, the linen canvas in a roll alongside his bottles and bags of pigment. He set up his melting pot over the fire, pouring in water and glue pellets to begin melting.

He enjoyed this part. It was very methodical, almost meditative, measuring and cutting the fabric, stretching it around the frames and using a small hammer and tack nails to secure it in place.

The smell of glue was pleasantly familiar even as it wasn't the most pleasant of scents, applying a careful layer to each canvas and starting to prepare his white paint, extra chalky, the base for everything else.

"Hello," he heard behind him. "Ugh, what are you doing?"

He glanced over his shoulder to find Thor in the doorway.

"Just sizing my canvases. I'm nearly finished."

"It stinks. What is it?"

"Rabbit-skin glue. The paint is rather acidic and can cause the fabric to deteriorate. A layer of glue and a layer of leaded paint with chalk protects it. I'll let it dry a little while we're out."

Thor dampened the fire for him, looking around at the canvases.

"It's strange to think you're going to spirit us up onto these," he said. "I can't even imagine it yet."

"I'll draw out the compositions, ask your father if he's happy with them, and then begin painting properly. I've never done four semi-simultaneously before, but I think that's the best way. I can use the exact same shades of paint between them all, really connect them all as a set."

He was thinking out loud maybe, but if anything Thor seemed to find it charming.

"Would you mind terribly if I watched you work sometimes when I'm not busy?" he asked. "It's very interesting. I've never known exactly what goes into a painting before."

He ought to say no. He ought to avoid being distracted too much.

But then again, a little company might be nice...

"Not at all," he said. "But only when your family aren't sitting. People sometimes find it difficult to have an audience there."

"You're an audience, surely."

"No. I'm just the artist. I don't count."

He could see by Thor's face that he didn't really understand, gathering his sketching tools together.

"Right. Shall we go?"

"I'll just pick up a basket from the kitchen."

"What for?"

"Well, you haven't had breakfast from what I've heard."

Oh. No. No, he hadn't.

"Thank you," he said, feeling really rather awkward about it all.

"You're most welcome. Can't have you working on an empty stomach."

It was surprisingly nice to have someone looking out for him.


	8. The Lake

Loki was a little surprised by how far it was to this lake. It was down past the more formal gardens with their neat hedges and closer to the estate proper with its fields and distant cottages. It was in an interesting place between managed and wild, surrounded by willow trees.

It was beautiful though. A thousand shades of green in the leaves and stems, light dancing across the water, the darting flash of insect wings flitting back and forth.

It would make a stunning backdrop to any portrait, but looking at Thor's hair shining in the sun, he could already almost see the finished work.

He wasn't at all sure about Thor pulling a woven blanket from his basket and laying it out on the ground though. This felt... too close.

"Sit down," Thor said. "Eat something, please."

There was quiche. Bottles of water. Little pastries. A veritable spread. He had prepared this, had the kitchen make it specifically. It was too much.

Loki was hungry though.

Thor sat down beside him, leaning back on his elbows with his legs kicked out in front of him, smiling. He seemed very relaxed, much more than Loki felt.

He ought to make conversation.

"Hela told me you're half-siblings," he said vaguely.

"Oh. Yes, we are. Her mother died when she was very young. There's not actually much of a gap between us, for all she pretends there is. Only five years, barely that."

Mm. That was actually more than Loki had thought. That meant she was almost thirty. No wonder Odin was anxious about her future.

"I'd expect her to be married already. She's beautiful, rich enough."

Thor chuckled.

"Ah, you don't know her. But you know how wealthy men are. They want the beauty but they're decidedly less keen on the sharp tongue. She could get married if she wanted to. She just doesn't want to."

Loki's heart gave a strange squeeze, a horrible ache.

"What about the estate?" he asked. "Will she keep living here when you inherit it?"

"Why not? Plenty of rooms in the house. Besides, she's a lot cleverer than me. She went to finishing school for a year, learned all about household management and accounts. She'll be much better at running it than I am. I think it's a kind of unspoken agreement between us that she'll help me when the time comes."

Was it? In Loki's experience, it was better to talk about such things rather than assume.

But it probably wasn't his place to say that.

"So she went to finishing school," he said instead. "Did you have any of your education away from home?"

"Only briefly. I did a term at boarding school when I was seventeen but, well, it wasn't for me. I was much better at making friends than I was studying."

"I can believe that."

Thor smiled, gazing out over the water.

"I do miss the company though," he said. "I had one or two particular friends that I miss."

"You don't write to them?"

"Oh, they don't want to hear from me. We're rich but we're not like them. Their fathers might let them marry Hela for her money but they wouldn't want me as a friend. Besides, they're all off in politics or the military now. No time for old acquaintances. Anyway, want to take a dip?"

That was quite the change of subject.

"I should really be sketching," Loki said. "But if you want to, go ahead. I don't minf."

He tried not to look too much as Thor took off his shirt, his back practically rippling in the sunlight as he stretched. And then he stripped down to his small clothes and leapt into the water.

The splash spread out from him in deep ripples, swimming forward a few yards, his arms cutting through the surface, dunking his head to leave his hair darkened and slicked back.

Hiding behind his paper, Loki hurriedly started drawing studies of the lake. The shape of it, the clumps of rushes and iris, the trees all around.

He definitely did not draw a mostly nude and extremely handsome man looking up at him from the water, smiling when he caught him looking back at him.

"Sure you won't swim? It's very refreshing what with this heat."

He wanted to. Really wanted to. He wanted to swim close, to touch, maybe more even.

But he couldn't do that.

"Maybe later," he called, trying to draw the exact shape of the willow tree behind Thor's head.

If only his eye didn't keep insisting on being drawn down to where Thor was swimming up and down, turning in the water like an otter.

This was going to be a wonderful and terrible few months. He could just tell.


	9. Beginning

Loki fled inside before Thor came out of the water, apologising, saying something about needing to work. In truth, he just wasn't sure how he'd manage to keep his blushes under control when faced with cascades and damp clothes and...

He shook himself, safely alone, and opened the window in his studio room, just trying to get some fresh air.

And then he turned to the four canvases, picking up the first one and squaring his shoulders. Right. Frigga.

In his experience, this was the most important part. In theory, portraits could change right up until the end, every layer of paint a potential new start if you were skilled enough but Loki found that personally once he had drawn the outline, he found it very difficult to change his mind about how it should look.

He thinned some dark brown paint - some people used black, but he preferred a more subtle tone - and got to work.

The bristles swirled into a tight point as he rolled the shaft of his brush between his fingers. It was easy to draw across the canvas, making the outline of Frigga's figure, copying his sketch onto a larger scale.

The folds of dress here, like she had just paused for a moment, the hand upon the sill. A flower lying there, one of her favourites.

Hair... She'd hand it in a somewhat loose style when he'd seen her, some of it pulled back from her face in a practical manner but the rest in loose waves. It was similar to Thor's. He could see the likeness between them, see some of her grace in her son.

He drew in the window and some of the scenery behind it from life, a real image, recognisable to anyone who knew the house and gardens. Generations who lived in this house could easily see exactly where their matriarch had stood.

Good. He liked it.

Right. Hela. The most important one in many ways.

He looked at the blank canvas, hesitated, and decided to draw out Odin first instead. Sticking with safety, with a relatively easy layout. The former soldier still looking so strong and dignified in his later years.

He drew Thor next and knew he was taking his time rather more than entirely necessary, pouring a lot of detail into the background, copying his sketch from the early afternoon.

The images of Thor in the water kept returning to him. What a strange man. He seemed to truly want some kind of friendship and Loki was not inclined to deny that on his own merits, but at the same time he was here for a specific purpose. He had to work.

Then again, the way he'd implied his former friends' fathers had disapproved of the connection... Maybe he thought someone slightly beneath him in society would be safe. And Loki didn't have any parents to sneer anyway.

If Thor knew the kind of thoughts daring to slip through Loki's head, he likely wouldn't be so keen. Thoughts of all that exposed flesh and how it might look upon bright cotton sheets or revealed in the V of a silk dressing gown, mostly covered but unmistakably bare beneath.

He drew the curves of Thor's shoulders carefully, like he was touching their real equivalent with light, quick fingers, his brush skimming easily over the canvas to create the image from nowhere.

If he'd waited by the lake, with the water clinging to what few clothes he wore, he'd even have seen his...

His hand slipped, a heavy line spinning sideways towards the edge where it was never supposed to be.

Loki sighed and tried to get a grip of himself, finding a rag to dab and blot it out until it was merely a muddy smudge.

And knowing he could hold it off no longer - perhaps even a little grateful for the distraction - Loki picked up the fourth canvas and set to work. Hela was bold and certain and he tried to replicate that even in this early stage, giving her purpose and motion in the lines of her limbs, the way her face was looking outwards, the dark shape of her dog shaded in with a mere squiggle of paint.

His fingers itched to keep going, but he had to get confirmation first. Odin had to approve.

If he didn't, Loki wasn't quite sure what he would do.


	10. Judgement

Having told Heimdall that he was ready for Odin's perusal, Loki paced a little nervously. He couldn't really afford to lose this commission and, really, he didn't want to. They were interesting people. He wanted to paint them.

And he wanted to spend time around Thor even though he knew it was foolish. Just his stupid dreams of men who might like him the way he liked them.

He tried to put on a brave face when Odin arrived, the four canvases propped against the back of the couch for easy viewing. He practically held his breath as Odin stood before them, his head turning back and forth.

"Remarkable," he said after a while. "I can already recognise us all, even with just these lines."

"Thank you, sir."

"But this one of Hela... No. No, I really don't think it's suitable."

Loki had expected it, and yet it still felt like an insult.

"This is how she wants to be painted," he said. "To avoid suspicion, I am treating her just as everyone else, allowing her to be in control of her own image."

"But will that win her a husband? That hound for one thing... It's such an aggressive-looking thing. I don't want her scaring them off."

"But she loves her dog and wants him recorded beside her. If I change everything, she's sure to realise something underhand is happening. Besides, an animal shows her caring side. A maternal instinct even."

He was clutching at straws a little, he knew it, but he was determined.

The door opened behind them, Loki spinning round to find Thor looking rather sheepishly at them.

"Oh, Father," he said somewhat awkwardly. "I didn't realise you'd be here. Loki told me I could watch him work sometimes. It's fascinating stuff, isn't it?"

"Hm. Look at Hela," Odin said. "Perhaps I need a second opinion. What do you think of it?"

Thor appraised the outline carefully, really taking it in.

"It looks like her. Even so roughly, you really get the shape of her and Fenrir. The sense of them."

"And what sense do you get of her?"

It was an odd question and Thor obviously found it bizarre.

"What do you mean? I see her as she is."

Oh, that was the perfectly wrong thing to say...

"Exactly," Loki said. "Beautiful and caring. She's an interesting lady - I want to reflect that. And this is the composition we agreed on."

"I would prefer something... softer," Odin said.

Thor scoffed.

"Oh, Father, you know how Hela is when her mind is made up. Let her choose. I chose mine. It's only fair."

"Sir," Loki said. "I promise, I will draw out those feminine and delicate attributes, I will follow your specification while also allowing your daughter to express herself. I truly think it is the best way."

Odin didn't much like this. That much was obvious. But he held up his hands.

"Perhaps you're right," he said. "But I will be checking in often."

"Of course, sir."

He left and Loki let out a sigh, undoing his hair to scrape his fingers through it.

"What was all that about?" Thor asked.

If Odin hadn't told his wife about his plans in so many words, he definitely wouldn't have told his bold, open son. This was delicate.

"Oh, you know. Fathers always want their daughter's portraits to be perfect and exude a specific type of womanhood. Beautiful but innocent."

Thor's eyebrows had shot up.

"Why? I mean, she is... Pretty, I suppose, but why would that matter?"

"It's a matter of pride, I suppose. He wants people centuries from now to know he produced fine children."

"Oh. That's a bit... strange. Is it strange?"

"One's family are an extension of oneself. The wise, dutiful wife, the strong, healthy son, the beautiful but demure daughter. It's an image, that's all. A projection. He just wants people in a hundred years to see her well, not to think she was difficult."

"She is a bit difficult though. Sometimes."

Loki chuckled, beginning to tie his hair up again. He'd have got paint in it, no doubt, but then again he usually had paint in it.

"Thank you for supporting me," he said. "It will make my time with Hela easier, letting her make her own choices."

"Not at all. I just said what I thought."

Loose tangles of hair fell forward, refusing to obey as he tried to scrape them back.

"Here, let me," Thor said, moving to take the tie from him.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, wanting to swoon into Thor's arms as warm fingers swept across his scalp, effortlessly taming the curls that always gave him the most trouble and tying them in place.

"There," Thor said, smiling at him, so, so close.

Loki cleared his throat and took a step back.

"Thank you," he murmured. "I should... I should start preparing some pigments."

He was acutely aware of Thor's eyes on him. But what did that mean? What did any of it mean?

He blended up a pale grey, his palette heavy in his hand, and began on the first layer of paint, picking out the window frame on Frigga's portrait.

After a while, the familiar action of smoothing his brush through oil soothed him from confusing thoughts, almost but not quite forgetting that Thor was in the room with him.

"What are you doing this evening? After dinner, I mean."

"Erm... Reading, probably. It's how I relax."

"Do you ever play cards?"

This felt like a dangerous path.

"Sometimes."

"Would you care to join me this evening? Hela sometimes plays, but really rather rarely."

Oh, he shouldn't... He really shouldn't...

"Why not? I'm sure it will be fun."


	11. Games

Loki didn't play proper cards. Not the way gentlemen played. He knew ordinary games. Whist, basic bridge - though of course you'd need more people for that - all fours. He had a feeling that Thor would know some that were more complex or refined. Ones suitable for ladies. No gambling or any such uncouth things.

He at least had time to wash his face after dinner before Heimdall knocked to collect his crockery. It felt like there were no other servants a lot of the time, though there had to be. A house like this could not be run by one man alone.

"Thor is waiting for you in the billiard room," he said, picking up the plate. "I take it you and he are getting along."

"I think you're right that he's a bit lonely."

A nod.

"Yes. I fear so. He doesn't have much company. There was something of a fuss when he came back from school, but... Well, that was a long time ago now."

Worry settled uncomfortably in Loki's stomach.

"What kind of a fuss?" he asked.

"He is an unwise boy sometimes, that's all. He doesn't mean to offend."

"I'm sure he doesn't, but I'll bear that in mind. Where is the billiard room?"

"Ground floor, at the back right from the entrance hall."

Would he ever stop feeling out of place in these houses? Loki was almost afraid to even open the door in case he'd gone to the wrong room. In case anyone thought he was snooping or trying to steal or any other misdemeanor.

It was a dark room. Deep wood panels all around, a central billiard table, a group of chairs in front of the fire, one of which had Thor in it.

"Port?" he asked. "Or there's brandy or... Well, whatever you like. The decanters are by the window."

He was shuffling cards as Loki examined the metal tags hanging from the bottles. Some of them were a little bit dusty.

"Do you often have company?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"No, not very often. We used to. And we still get visitors at some times of year, but more often we go to other people. Father is a bit... funny about having too many guests. Thinks it's too expensive probably. Or maybe he thinks they judge us."

"What for?" Loki asked, pouring himself a small whisky. "You're intelligent people. You have a very fine house."

"But we're not an old family. All of this is... bought, not inherited."

"And that makes a difference?"

"To some people, yes. It's nice to have someone to play with. What games do you know?"

They played a few hands of two-player whist, a brace of patience, even beggar-my-neighbour which Loki was a little surprised Thor knew. But mainly it was talking. Laughing. Drinking on Thor's part, though Loki was doing his best to be mostly abstinent. He didn't want to seem to be taking advantage of free-flowing liquor.

Thor was easy to talk to. Open and gregarious, asking all about Loki's painting training. How he'd been apprenticed to a great master and learned his trade doing backgrounds and fabric detailing. How he'd built his way up until he could paint portraits himself, learning from everything around him.

"And before then? Who are your family?"

Loki shrugged.

"I don't really know. My parents died when I was young."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't really remember them. I went to a school for destitute children and was hand-picked for my penmanship. I showed potential for painting and now... Here I am."

"So if you hadn't been chosen..."

"I wouldn't be here. Simple as that."

Thor seemed a little nonplussed.

"So you weren't... I don't know, called to art?"

That was a strange question.

"I might have been, in a smaller way. But, well... If I wasn't doing this, I expect I'd be in domestic service. And I'd be happy enough, but this is a much more interesting profession, I think. I get to go to interesting places. Meet interesting people."

Thor smiled at him, glancing away.

"I find you... interesting too."

Somewhere along the line, they'd stopped placing down cards. Loki felt like his stomach was full of something warm, like hot honey.

"In what way?"

"It's the way you look at things. You see the world differently to most people."

"Well, I was trained to do that."

"Mm. But I wonder if, in another way, you and I perhaps see the world the same?"

He couldn't possibly mean what Loki thought he meant. That was not possible. He must be misunderstanding.

"I'm not sure I follow," Loki said carefully.

Thor looked at him, right in the eyes, and then looked away.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have... misread."

"Misread what?"

And now he looked worried, shaken, unsure. It didn't suit him at all.

"I didn't mean to impose," he said, moving to get up. "I'm sorry, I'll... I'll leave you in peace."

"No. No, Thor, wait. Just speak plainly."

He had to half chase him to the door, grabbing his wrist, Thor letting out a shaky sigh.

"I thought you were looking at me," he said. "In a... certain way. But I was mistaken and I apologise completely."

He wasn't trying to pull away though. He seemed like a cornered animal, trying to decide whether to run or to stay still and try to hide.

"What would you do if I was looking at you in a certain way?" Loki asked, loosening his grip slightly. "What would you do then?"

He saw Thor glance down at his lips. He saw the fear in his eyes but the desire too. The want.

And as he leant forward, he thought he knew the answer to that question.


	12. Surprise

Thor's lips were soft, hesitant at first and then demanding. He pulled Loki close, leaning heavily against the door, tasting of port, that heavy, cloying taste.

But this was too fast. They'd only met two days ago, it was too fast...

"Wait," Loki whispered, pulling back. "Wait, wait. What does this mean?"

Thor planted a hand on his cheek, rubbing his thumb over his skin in a way that almost made him melt.

"What do you mean, what does this mean?" he laughed. "It means that I find you deeply enticing and that I want to... You know. Get to know you."

Something about the hand on his hip, even now holding him so close, made him think that was something of an understatement.

"Unless you don't want to," Thor said.

"No, no, I... I do, it's just this is very sudden. We've only just met."

Thor grinned at him, leaning round to whisper in his ear.

"I don't need to know a man to know I want to suck his cock."

Loki's knees felt weak. He wasn't used to this at all. He was used to hints and whispers, nothing ever said out loud, certainly not so bluntly.

"Uh..." he managed, his usual skill with words abandoning him completely.

He could hear the smile in Thor's voice, his hand reaching round to rub at the slight bulge in his breeches.

"Would you like me to do that, Loki? Because I would. Very much."

"Alright."

His voice was so dry, his throat tight, dizzy almost as Thor kissed him again and then eased him back to his chair, kneeling before him and starting to undo his clothes.

"Just enough," he said, tugging Loki's trousers and small clothes down to his knees, trapping his legs but letting his cock spring free. "There will be time for the rest later."

Later. The concept was too strange for Loki to contemplate just yet. Not when an extremely handsome man was leaning up and taking the head of his cock between his lips.

"God," he breathed, clinging to the leather, hearing it creak beneath him.

And Thor was only teasing. Considering the risks here, the way they could be walked in on at any time, he really was taking his time, rolling his tongue around, sucking the tiniest amount. Loki's breathing was growing heavier and heavier, wanting to buck upwards but without leverage.

"You want it deeper?" Thor asked.

"Yes."

"Stand up then."

It wasn't dignified, tipping himself onto his feet, gasping as Thor gripped his arse and pulled him forward, taking almost all of his length into his mouth and sucking hard.

"You've done this before," Loki said.

"Mm..." Thor hummed, like an agreement, bringing one of his hands up to stroke the rest of his cock, making Loki pant and have to hold back his moans.

His hips moved without his permission, bucking forward, stammering out apologies.

"No, do it," Thor said. "Do it, use me."

"Fuck..."

How could he resist? Thor's eyes sparkled as he gazed up at him, his mouth so warm, urging him to move, to thrust even, stroking firmly, pulling him closer and closer to...

"Ah! Oh, Thor..."

It could only have been a few minutes and yet Loki felt as if his whole world had been turned upside down, everything changed in an instant.

He awkwardly tucked himself back in, trying to get his breath back, Thor making no effort to get up just yet. He seemed very satisfied, reaching back to pick up his glass and finish what remained of his last port.

"Come here," Loki said, his tongue very heavy. "Let me return the favour."

"I'd prefer to wait," Thor said. "Tomorrow maybe. Let me anticipate it."

A strange man. Baffling really. Though Loki couldn't pretend he'd be at hid best given how stunned he still was.

Je reached down to help Thor up, happy enough to be kissed again, slightly troubled though.

"What are you looking for?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"Fun. Pleasure. I want to please you, make you see stars, make you happy. A little affair, that's all. If you'd like to."

He would like to. He'd like to a lot.

But that didn't mean it wasn't a terrible idea.

"Let me think about it," he said. "This is very fast."

Thor nodded, very sage suddenly.

"Of course," he said. "But, well..."

He shrugged with an air of cockiness and smugness that Loki wished he didn't find attractive. He knew exactly how alluring he was, knew exactly what he was doing.

"Where did you learn to... do that like that?" Loki asked.

Thor ran a thumb over his lips, grinning at him.

"I'll tell you another time," he said. "Right now, I think we should go to bed before anyone gets suspicious."

Right. Right, yes.

Somehow, he managed to stumble back up to his room, flopping onto the bed.

Maybe he'd wake up and this would all have been a dream.

Maybe that would be for the best. Before he got in over his head.


	13. Facing

Fat over lean was the first and best lesson he'd ever been given about oil painting. You started with more pigment to oil in the blend and then, as the layers build up, more oil and less pigment. It made those later layers more translucent, more subtle.

He was expecting Frigga but no doubt she was occupied with something. He busied himself matching his paint to the precise shade of the wallpaper, filling in a fair amount of the background.

And his mind was full of Thor, of course. From the moment, he'd woken up, the previous evening had rushed through his mind. What they'd done together.

It had been fun, he could hardly deny that. It was the kind of thing he dreamt of on lonely nights. And to add to it, Thor seemed keen to carry on. To have an affair, as he said.

Would it be worth it? Loki wasn't sure. It would be enjoyable, but it was also risky. They were in a house with Thor's whole family. The threat of discovery might shred his nerves if he wasn't careful.

It would be just his luck to nearly finish the portraits and then be caught and thrown out, disgraced and without a penny.

Thor was rich though. Surely he'd... do right by him.

He didn't know that, though. He barely knew the man. He might not care, might abandon him. He wouldn't be the first person left by their lover when things got difficult.

Clearly some negotiation would be necessary.

The door opened behind him, Frigga entering in a quiet swirl of skirts and calm. She seemed to be a distinctly mellowing presence; just having her in the room helped him focus his mind on something else.

"You can sit down today if you wish," he said. "I'll be focussing on your face."

"Oh, dear," she said, smiling. "Well, don't flatter me too much. I want to be recognisable."

"There will be no need, I assure you."

"I mean it," she said, taking up a delicate perch on one of the couches. "I don't want to look all peach-skinned and dewy-eyed when that's not how I am."

"I promise, I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

He meant it. He had painted people who wanted a little kindness to enhance a feature here or there, not so much they'd be unrecognisable, but just a few tweaks to make them seem a little healthier. Smoothing out or minimalising of blemishes, a little extra colour in the cheeks, a little less colour in the nose...

Frigga would not need that and clearly nor would she welcome it.

When he'd been studying as a youth, Loki had learned that many people believed handsome faces to be symmetrical. And they often were, but it was a rare person indeed whose face was completely identical right and left. Part of his skill was to see those differences and reflect them delicately.

It was easier in a three-quater profile like this. Straight on was much more challenging.

"I hear Thor played you at cards last night," she said, her hands gently folded in her lap.

"Uh, yes. I'm afraid I don't think I was quite up to his standards."

"Oh, he won't mind that. He'll be glad of intelligent company."

Loki carefully drew his brush across the canvas, trying to remain steady.

"He's certainly very easy to talk to," he said.

"If he annoys you, do feel free to make your excuses. He can be a little overwhelming."

Couldn't he just...?

"It's not annoying. Quite the opposite. I fear that I might not be sufficiently interesting conversation before too long."

She paused for a little while, remaining perfectly still, gazing at a spot on the wall.

"He's surprisingly sheltered," she said after a while. "He's never really travelled. In comparison, I feel you may seem more worldly and interesting than you realise."

He certainly hadn't felt sheltered or unworldly last night...

Loki forced that thought out of his mind, his brush shining with paint, darting it like a fish for his first layer of skin tone. Darker than she was, a rosy base to make other layers stand out.

"Have you thought of which shade you would want for your dress?" he asked. "It does not need to be from life."

She chuckled, maintaining her position but with a very amused twinkle in her eye.

"Goodness me. Any shade I want?"

"Broadly speaking. Some pigments are more expensive, harder to come by."

"Do you think we could manage a blue? Not too bright. A navy perhaps or something of that kind."

He could already almost image her silver-gold hair against such a fabric. And darker shades made showing movement in the folds of the material somewhat easier, the reflections all the brighter.

"I'll see what I can do."


	14. More Time with Frigga

Frigga made him stop to eat, examining his progress thus far. It didn't much look like her, of course. This was about tones and shade rather than features just yet. Still, the shape of her face was there.

He felt really rather exposed sitting with her in the morning room, drinking tea and eating bread with meat paste.

It really wasn't something he was used to, being with someone without anything to occupy his hands.

A teacup made a very poor shield. And silence felt very oppressive.

"I understand you are your husband's second wife," he said, feeling the awkwardness even as he spoke.

She smiled and smoothed her skirts, the first sign if even a hint of discomfort that he'd ever seen from her.

"Hela mentioned it, I presume," she said. "She'll have corrected you right away. Well, yes, it's true. But I still consider her my daughter. I love her as dearly as any mother ever loved, just as much as I love Thor."

This all felt rather defensive. That hadn't really been what Loki intended to ask, but he was glad she felt comfortable enough to talk to him about such things.

"I'm sure you do," he said.

"Of course, I understand the resentment," she said. "She was too young to remember a time without me, but she thinks the gap between her mother's death and our remarriage was rather short. I don't begrudge her that. We did fall in love rather quickly. Or not so quickly. It's difficult to say."

Should he say something? Should he ask?

"Painters are much like priests, I feel. We don't reveal anything told to us in confidence."

A light chuckle, looking down, smiling at memories of the past.

"Well, there was no impropriety while my predecessor was alive if that's what you mean. But they had married rather young and then Odin made his fortune at war away from home and by the time he returned and they got down to the business of married life, I think they had rather grown apart. They were friends more than husband and wife and they would have been very happy to continue like that forever had she not fallen ill shortly after Hela was born."

She took a sip of tea, clearing her throat.

"I was a little older than most brides," she said. "We met and fell in love very quickly. But I expect more than a few people assumed I had seen an easy fortune and pursued him relentlessly. In fact, it was quite the opposite."

"In what way?"

"We wrote a lot. I knew I loved him, but I was wary. I'm naturally inclined to such things. I did not want to enter into marriage too quickly for all that I kept being told my time was running out. He was the one who manufactured supposedly chance meetings, just to spend time together. And eventually his feelings for me all came spilling out and what could I do but say yes?"

A variation of that seemed rather familiar. Maybe Thor was more like his father than he realised.

"And about a year after the wedding, Thor was born and has spent the rest of his life cheerfully turning the whole house upside down."

Loki could very easily believe that.

He could see Hela's side too, though. A few too many snide comments about Frigga, implying her mother had not been properly mourned... It might cause a rift.

And maybe now he was starting to understand why Odin was rather antisocial. It must be difficult to have the twin issues of being thought of poorly for his previous station and his marital life.

And speaking of Thor...

"Heimdall said you were in here," he said, opening the door. "I brought my own cup if there's still enough tea."

He gave Frigga a quick peck on the cheek, sitting down next to her.

Loki tried hard not to burst with embarrassment as he watched Thor drink, the way his lips parted, the flash of his tongue, the knowledge that he had spilled into that mouth not even a day ago.

"What are you talking about?" Thor asked mildly.

"Oh, just this and that," Frigga said.

A smile, those blue eyes turning to gaze at Loki.

"I was going to suggest a game of billiards this evening, if Loki wanted to play," he said.

"Don't bother him, Thor. He's very busy."

"He's not bothering me," Loki said. "I'd be glad to try to learn. I'm afraid I only know the theory of how to play. You'll have to be patient with me."

He wasn't entirely sure from Thor's smile how much that plea to slow down had been absorbed.

Mind you, Loki also wasn't quite sure how much he meant it.


	15. Billiards

With the pale pink paint of his afternoon's work freshly washed from his hands after dinner, Loki made his way to the billiard room with a strange feeling in his entire being.

It was a bizarre blend of nerves and anticipation with a little fear and a shameful hint of arousal even already.

Thor was already setting up, apparently innocently, rolling balls onto the green table, the low lanterns over it already lit.

"There's a lot of different varieties of games," he said. "One pocket, pool, all of that, but I think English billiards is probably easiest to pick up."

He fetched a cue stick from the rack, rolling a square of chalk over the tip, lightly blowing off the excess. Loki took it, feeling the heft, swallowing hard.

"I didn't realise we'd actually be playing," he said softly.

"Got to keep up the ruse," Thor said. "Especially while my family are still awake. Besides, I thought you wanted to talk first. Here, practise hitting the cue ball, see how it feels."

This was definitely one of the odder experiences of his life, leaning over the felt and trying to line up his hands correctly, looking for the right words at the same time.

"It's very risky for me," he said, missing his first attempt. "You have to understand that. My reputation would be shattered. I could be left destitute."

"Mine could be too, what little I have."

"But you have the money to survive that. I don't."

He managed to make contact, sending the ball spinning awkwardly off in a random direction.

"So what are you saying?" Thor asked, rolling it back up the table to him.

"I'm saying that I need guarantees that you won't abandon me if the worst should happen. I don't really know you; I don't know that you won't just take what you want and think nothing more of me."

Was it a good sign that Thor seemed taken aback? That such a thought had never even entered his head?

"Of course," he said. "I'll be careful though. We'll be careful."

He casually shot his own cue ball the length of the table with a satisfying clack.

"The other issue is that I'm here to work," Loki said, trying to copy his motions. "I don't mind you watching me paint or coming to spend time with me, but the paintings have to come first. I can't be... distracted all day."

"Don't worry. I won't be giving up my work on the estate. I'll be out and about a lot of the time. And I promise to resist my desires until it's convenient to you."

He made it sound almost like a business arrangement. There had been so much passion last night. Loki was honestly confused that he could speak so coldly of it.

Clutching at his cue, he tried to work out how to word what he wanted to ask.

"What is it that you want?" he asked. "And why?"

Thor laughed, taking another shot.

"I enjoy bodily pleasures," he said. "It's genuinely as base and animal as that. And I enjoy bringing pleasure to others. There are few things so beautiful as a handsome face transported in bliss and I love having the ability to do that."

"So why me? Because I'm convenient?"

They weren't playing properly yet and still Loki found himself trying to compete, trying to achieve that sound and speed.

"I wanted you the second I saw you," Thor said, his voice low. "And then in the time we've spent together, you've turned out to be intelligent, witty, passionate... And now I want you all the more."

Well... It was certainly nice to be wanted on his own merits as well as proximity, Loki supposed.

"I must admit, I felt a certain... admiration when I first laid eyes on you as well," he said.

A smile, a hint of cockiness with it.

"Then I trust we'll have a good time together," Thor said. "Now your mind has been put at rest and you know I'm not some kind of dreadful rake."

"Aren't you?" Loki asked playfully. "It seems to me that your plan last night was to ply me with strong drink and then spring a trap."

"A trap?" Thor put a hand over his heart. "You wound me. My intentions were strictly honourable."

"Not many honourable men have seen me in quite such a position."

He managed a good strike with that, the ball spinning up to the opposite cushion and bouncing almost all the way back. Thor watched it, seeming rather impressed.

"How many have?" he asked.

"What?"

"How many men have seen you like that?"

Loki scoffed, trying to line up.

"What kind of a question is that? Jealous? If you're hoping for a virgin, I'll have to disappoint you."

"Not at all. Just trying to establish our relative levels of experience. I've had three lovers."

"Including me or not?"

He had him. He had hooked on something. He wanted to pretend he was more worldly than he was.

"Two is a perfectly respectable number," Loki said, meaning it. Lord knew, chances for such things were few and far between.

"How many have you had?"

It really didn't matter, not to Loki anyway. But he'd humour him.

"Five," he said. "Though three of those were single occasion affairs."

"And were they... men?"

"Mostly, yes. One was a married woman, the wife of a painting teacher I spent time with."

"Wasn't that dangerous? Risking your future like that? What if he'd found out? Would you have been in trouble?"

"Not really. The husband was one of the others and they were both fully aware of what was going on. Sometimes they were both there. They were rather libertine people."

Thor's eyes had widened a little, a tiny bit shocked.

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you... like that?"

"Like what?"

"Lib... Libertine?"

"Me? No, not really. It's rather easy to get a reputation and I need to be acceptable to respectable families. It was fun, though, in an intense way."

He really thought he was getting the hang of this game now. It was all about striking the ball in the right place.

"Fun sounds good," Thor said, moving round the table towards him.

The door opened behind him.


	16. First Strokes

"Don't mind me," Hela said, crossing the floor, Fenrir by her side. "Just getting a nightcap. Who's winning?"

"Alas, I'm such a novice that I'm still learning the technique," Loki said.

She poured what seemed like rather a large brandy, sipping it on her way out.

"Mm. I won't embarrass you by joining in then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Thor said.

She closed the door and Thor slumped slightly.

"Does she take the dog everywhere she goes?" Loki asked.

"As much as possible, yes. He looks scary, but he's a sweetheart really. She likes people being a little intimidated I think."

"I wouldn't expect your father to allow him in the house."

"Well, he used to keep his own dogs inside. It would be unfair to stop her. Besides, he mostly just follows her around and tries to beg food from everyone. Fenrir, not Father.."

"Most ladies' dogs are rather smaller. I was a bit surprised to see him, that's all."

Thor carefully laid out three balls, bouncing his cue ball between two of them.

"I'm glad you're painting him with her," he said. "She's been really quite nervous about this whole portrait matter. I'm not sure why."

Guilt rolled through Loki's stomach. She was right to be concerned. This was a conspiracy against her in many ways. And he was part of that.

"Do you think she has any... particular reason that she doesn't want to be married?" he asked.

"I think she just considers most people to be stupid," Thor said. "It would have to be a very special man indeed to make her think them worthy. She's happy as she is."

That was fair enough, perhaps.

"What about you?" Loki asked. "Ever thought of marriage?"

Thor laughed.

"Er... Not really. I've never really given it much thought, if I'm honest. You?"

"I don't make enough money to support a family. And I spend much of my life living in other people's homes. I don't doubt there would be women who would consider that a bonus, but I don't tend to meet too many women of the right social standing. No lord would allow his daughter to marry me, even if they wanted to."

"Why wouldn't they want to? You're handsome, intelligent, skilled, funny. I would want to, if I was a girl."

He really was charming. He seemed somehow younger than they were sometimes. Earnest and keen.

"Mm, flattery," Loki said. "Anyone would think you wanted something..."

Anyone would think he was changing the subject. And yet, Thor was smiling, moving round the table, boldly running his hand down Loki's back, over the swell of his behind.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

It felt good, even such a relatively un-intimate touch.

"Shall we go upstairs?" Loki asked. "And then you can tell me exactly what kind of thing you're looking for tonight."

"Can we use your room? Mine involves going past my parents and they would hear when you went to bed, I fear."

That made a lot of sense. And maybe he wasn't quite ready to enter Thor's private space just yet. They ought to maintain a little mystery, he felt.

They snuck through the house together, Loki feeling anticipation rising within him. He intended to see rather more of Thor than he had thus far, and with permission too.

The very second he closed his door, he started removing Thor's shirt, concentrating on keeping his hands more steady than he felt.

"So," he said. "I believe there was some talk of me returning a certain favour. Was that your plan?"

"Perhaps something a little more reciprocal?"

"Ooh. What kind of thing would that be?"

He was goading a little. He enjoyed Thor's directness, how bluntly he said what he wanted.

"It depends how intimate you want to be."

Loki tugged off Thor's shirt at last, running his hands over his skin eagerly, amused more than anything.

"Thor, you sucked my cock last night, exactly how much more intimate do you think we can get?"

Thor pulled him close, running his hands down his back.

"Have you ever...? With enough oil, I know that it's possible to... You know."

Oh. Oh, maybe he was even less versed in these matters than Loki had realised.

"Yes, I have."

"Which... Which way?"

"Both ways, actually."

He could practically feel the heat in Thor's gaze, the excitement.

"I've tried before, but I've never managed it," he said. "But you know how, you can show me how..."

Loki laid a gentle finger on his lips. This was important all of a sudden.

"What kind of thing have you done?" he asked.

A faint blush slipped across Thor's face, even as Loki stroked his flesh soothingly.

"I've sucked cock," Thor said. "A lot. I like to think I rather good at it."

"Very much so," Loki assured him. "Excellent, in fact."

"I've also used fingers. And I want more, but I was always too tense, so with my other lovers we would hold our thighs together and use that. Feels nice."

Loki skimmed his hands down Thor's body, pressing through his trousers.

"Maybe we ought to try that first," he said, knowing that Thor would probably protest.

"I can take it," he said, sure enough. "Or, if you didn't mind, I could... You could be the one in that position."

Yes, he could, but on the other hand, he rather wanted to save that for a little later. Especially if it would be Thor's first time, he would want to make it a little more special for all that he was bold and likely wouldn't care.

"There's no need to rush," he said. "We'll have time for such things later, with the right amount of time to prepare."

"I don't need to be coddled," Thor said. "Be a little rough with me, I like it that way."

Loki thought of how eager he'd been to have Loki thrust into his mouth, having to clear his throat just at the memory.

"Let's go slowly at first," he said softly. "Let me get to know your body a little and then know that for days, no doubt, I will be dreaming of when I will feel you inside. The wait will make it all the better, trust me."

He kissed away Thor's pout, undoing his belt, deliberately grinding against the bulge in his trousers, feeling Thor's breathing speeding up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Alright," Thor said, but smiling with it. "Torture me if you must."

Loki smirked at him, shrugging off his waistcoat, the first garment he'd removed.

"Generally speaking, I don't think torture is meant to feel like this."


	17. Slow-ish

Kissing and pulling Thor towards the bed until they tumbled onto it seemed to bring him fully on board, that eagerness returning. Loki had the work to roll them, trying to stay on top and in control.

The last thing he wanted to do was let his desire get the better of him, even if the temptation was very, very strong.

No. He'd order some more oil first, something better suited to the purpose, hide it among the others, looking innocent and nondescript.

Maybe he'd even use some of it in Thor's portrait.

Later. Later...

He made sure Thor wasn't taking too much of his weight, sitting up to pull off his own shirt, seeing Thor's eyes slide down his body and then back up. He really was quite adorably obvious.

Loki wasn't quite sure how he ended up in Thor's lap all of a sudden, strong arms around him, insistent kisses that made his head spin, his hips already grinding downwards. And he knew Thor was just as affected, could hear it by the way he was breathing. Just from this, even.

He thought, like he wasn't also practically panting and writhing...

It felt so good to be held, even fleetingly, even knowing that this was purely physical. It felt good to be desired, to be wanted so fiercely by someone he wanted in return.

Thor slid one hand round him, struggling with the buttons on his trousers, Loki taking a moment to let down his hair before helping him, unable to hold back the gasp when Thor reached in right away, rubbing him through his small clothes.

"Promise me you'll... Later, I mean, but promise."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll fuck me."

Loki's brain wasn't quite working, too full of desire, almost keening at the relentless pressure from Thor's hand.

"I promise. And the other way too."

A grin, another kiss and Thor gently tipped him back and set about removing what remained of their clothes.

Loki had spent a long time learning to think about bodies in the abstract. He'd drawn countless nudes, all different types and shapes, men and women. He'd learned about musculature and joints and rough proportions.

He still stared at Thor's body openly, reaching up to him, feeling that rush of skin contact, bucking up towards him, his cock sliding against firm, warm skin.

"Do you have a little oil we can use?" Thor asked, voice hot with desire. "To ease the way a little?"

"Of course."

Loki practically scrambled over to one of his bags, a small bottle in there for emergencies or if his larger packages had not arrived in a timely manner, pouring a little into his hand.

Thor had arranged himself among the pillows, watching him, his cock standing tall from his body, as thick as Loki had expected. Part of him already imagined the feeling of being filled by it, swallowing hard.

"You're so beautiful," Thor murmured.

Loki blushed slightly, rubbing his hands together, warming the oil.

"Which... How were you thinking of doing this?"

Thor smiled at him and rolled onto his side, parting his legs like he'd done this a hundred times before. And maybe he had.

"I like it both ways," he said. "But I want to feel you. Even from the outside."

"Alright."

In truth, Loki hadn't done this exact act before. He knew the theory, of course, but, well... It had never come up. His heart raced as he rubbed oil onto Thor's skin, leaving him shiny and slick, the faintest hint of his hole just visible.

He settled in behind, taking hold of Thor's hip, his cock sliding easily between his thighs into the warm, hard channel spirited up there. Surrounded by flesh, his hips jerking forward faster than he'd meant them to.

"Mm..." Thor hummed. "Mm, yes..."

Loki tried his best to angle a little upwards, trying to rub against that specific nerve bundle that felt so good even from the outside. Thor seemed to be deliberately squeezing his legs together ever tighter, clearly trying to impress him.

"Good?" he asked even, as though Loki's heavy breath wasn't enough for him to know.

"Yes," Loki managed. "Yes, but tell me where's best for you."

"Want to make you feel good."

"Likewise."

A little more experimenting and he heard Thor gasp, a sign that he'd found it, thrusting all the harder against that spot, feeling as Thor reached for his cock, stroking hard.

"Let me," Loki said.

His left hand was rather clumsy but the way Thor gasped gave him confidence, using his hand and his cock in tandem until Thor grunted, his body shuddering almost.

Only then did Loki feel ready to chase his own pleasure, taking hold of Thor's hip once more.

"Wait," Thor said, breathless.

"Huh?"

"I have... I have a fantasy. Something a lover used to talk about but never did."

Fighting with his lust-addled brain, Loki tried to think straight.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if it's really possible, but he would talk about pressing my chest together and sliding his cock there, spilling all over me. Would... Would you try it? See if you can?"

He moved, Loki's cock hit by cold air as it slipped from between his thighs, Thor's spend-slick fingers pushing his pectoral muscles together like a sort of cleavage, looking at him like he was afraid of being rejected.

Loki swallowed hard, dizzy with want.

"We'll need a little more oil, I think," he said. "But we can try."


	18. Questions

Heart pounding, Loki rubbed some fresh oil into Thor's chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, getting little moans in return.

"Alright," he said, swinging a leg over Thor's body. "Let's try.

What an image, one Loki would hold in his mind for the rest of his life, probably. Pink cheeks and eyes still dark with arousal, bitten lips, golden hair mussed across the pillow and then pushing shining muscles together like an offering, willing Loki to take his pleasure.

It was different to anything Loki had ever done. He pressed his cock through the channel spirited up there with a gasp, having to move forward for a better angle, seeing his length sliding along Thor's flesh almost like it wasn't really his.

There was no mistaking that sensation though. Different, firmer, and that look... Something close to adoration. Not just desire, not just lust, something even stronger than that.

Bring as pent up as he was, it didn't take long for Loki to spill across Thor's chest, just as he'd wanted. Quite why, Loki wasn't sure.

Those warm hands on his thighs, the passionate kisses... Oh, he could get used to this really quite easily.

They shared his ablution water, even though it was cold, goosebumps across their skin.

"So how come no one ever did that for you before?" Loki asked, feeling a little awkward in the aftermath.

"Oh, I don't think he ever planned to really. Sometimes, when he was... You know, lying behind me, he'd get a handful of my chest and talk about it. I think he thought it would embarrass me or something, but I found it exciting."

The faintest hint of a worry rose in the back of Loki's mind. Even for young men experimenting with desire, trying to embarrass your partner was... unusual.

Of course, some people liked that kind of thing. Liked being told they were worthless. Loki didn't really understand it. And he didn't think Thor harboured such desires. If anything, he wanted to be... praised, to be told he was skilled and desirable.

He tried to put it out of his mind, kissing Thor goodnight and flopping into bed far later than he'd meant to.

He began painting the next morning with a few muscle twinges and a lot of relaxation. A night of passion had been good for him. He'd relieved a little stress.

He would be continuing with Frigga's face in the afternoon but Heimdall informed him that she had some tasks to attend to in the morning. He left her face still underfinished and instead set about trying to mix the shade of blue she had wanted for her dress.

Turqoise was very expensive as pigments went. This kind of dark blue though, Prussian blue with some black to darken it yet further was really rather reasonable. And it would look striking. He liked it very much.

His brush flew over the canvas, bold, firm strokes, feeling very free at this stage. Details would come later.

As often happened, he was consumed by his work. He made fairly good progress, the first layer completed, happy enough with the shapes he was creating.

"When do you put the face on?"

It was a good thing that he wasn't touching the painting when Hela spoke, startling a little.

"When she sits for it, I'll draw it from life," he said. "This, I can do from my reference sketches. It's not a real dress, after all, just based on one."

"Do you often do that?" she asked, examining his work so far. "Paint fictional clothes?"

"Sometimes. I'll add some embellishments, maybe a colour that suits the composition better."

"Can I show you the dress I want to be portrayed in? I want the colour matched exactly."

"Of course. It's entirely your decision."

He really did get the feeling that she didn't hear that too often. She still seemed suspicious of him.

And with good reason, he thought guiltily.

She watched him paint for a little while, almost like a test, an examination of his technique.

"Will it really be finely detailed when it's finished?" she asked. "At present, it's simply lumps of colour."

"In my defence, it takes months to complete a portrait," he said. "This is very much just the beginning."

"So how long before mine is ready?"

"It depends. I'll be working on them more or less concurrently, most likely, so it's difficult to say. Between four and six months."

He was trying not to look at her, trying not to give any sign that anything was amiss. Not looking at her expression, her reaction to that news.

"I see," she said. "So there's no... particular deadline?"

"Not to my knowledge," Loki said truthfully. "Your father wants them to be the best they can be and rushing will not aid that. Why? Were you expecting such a thing?"

"I wondered if he was planning to have them finished before the end of the season."

Ah, the season. The time when the rich and noble went to the city to socialise, form new business connections, hunt for husbands...

"Were you presented as a debutante?" Loki asked.

"Of course. I was sixteen, fresh from finishing school. But I don't particularly like it. All those ghastly parties, having to be so achingly polite to the most stupid people. It's boring."

Sixteen. So if she was twenty-eight or twenty-nine now, that was twelve seasons ago at least. Even if she didn't care, there would likely be talk of being left on the shelf. The portrait might be a means of showing her looks without her demeanour, potentially snagging the right kind of man in time for Christmas.

"It certainly sounds it," he said, falling back on the old habit of simply agreeing with whatever his subjects said.

"They won't let Thor go, of course."

Loki's ears practically pricked up.

"Why not?"

"Because he'd probably come back with a penniless bride. I'd quite like it if he did, to be honest. Finally spice things up around here. Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

Had she come specifically to fish for information? It seemed so.

It must be awful to feel so suspicious in your own home.

And even worse that it was true.


	19. Instructions

"I'd like you to prioritise Hela's portrait where possible."

It wasn't a surprising instruction from Odin, but it still made Loki's stomach clench in an unpleasant manner.

"Of course, sir," Loki said, cleaning his brush in foul-smelling spirit. "Any particular reason?"

"I would prefer it to be finished sooner rather than later."

Mm. That slight discomfort settled in his stomach once more, bedding down like a cat amongst cushions.

"I believe she has a specific dress she wants to be portrayed wearing," he said, selecting a more delicate brush for somewhat more detailed work. "Are you happy with my work so far on the portrait of your wife?"

"Certainly, yes, though of course it will be easier to know once more progress is made."

"I like it very much," Frigga said behind him, her shoes tapping gently on the wooden floor - they'd sensibly removed the rugs to protect them from any paint spatters.

Loki was grateful for her interception. A barrier against his discomfort. He didn't mind the lying so much, more the fact that he didn't feel comfortable with trying to push Hela towards something she clearly did not want.

Even though she was a little rude and blunt, he rather liked her. Doing anything underhand would make him her enemy for life. And add into that the fact he was having an affair with their son...

He'd barely even been in the house for more than a week and already he'd made such a tangle of everything...

"Is this the kind of shade you were thinking of?" he asked, letting her take a look at the canvas so far.

"Oh, yes," she said. "Exactly. Goodness, I can already see my own form. Isn't it extraordinary, dear?"

"Yes, quite," Odin said a little stiffly. "I'll ask Hela to sit for you tomorrow."

Loki inclined his head, trying not to slump as Odin left and Frigga sat down.

"He's terribly anxious," she said softly.

"You're trying to slow him," Loki said. "Trying to delay things."

"A little. I'm still hoping to help him see reason."

Hm. Maybe he ought to talk to Thor, encourage him to be more open about his ideas of sharing the house and its operation with his sister when the time came. Maybe they could present a united front.

"I'm sure you will," he said instead. "Now, are you comfortable where you are? This might be a long sitting."

Hela did not sit for him the next day or the day after that. He saw her sometimes, in the evening. She'd started joining him and Thor for cards and billiards. The conversation was perhaps a little more careful but he was really starting to improve his playing skills.

And Thor... Goodness, Thor. He was quite the handful.

They hadn't yet spent another night together and even though Loki was trying his best to keep his work space sacred, he couldn't seem to resist the occasional kiss when Thor came to watch him work.

It was nice to have company for parts of his day. Someone to talk to as he did the less interesting parts of the painting, the backgrounds and undetailed fabrics. He tried to do as much work on Hela's as he could, even though she was still only a vague shape in the centre, a shadowy dog beside her.

Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising therefore that one morning a few weeks after he arrived, he walked into the studio room to find Hela sat on one of the chaises, Fenrir at her feet looking despondent.

"Right," she said, arms folded. "Let's get this over with."


	20. Fur and Fear

Loki had certainly had more enthusiastic sitters. Hela called Fenrir up to sit beside her on the furniture - and he interpreted her sharp look as daring him to say anything about it - looking rather haughty and aloof.

He started by trying to match her skin tone, a little less rosy than Frigga, perhaps a sign that she didn't go outside too often.

"Who exercises him?" Loki asked without really thinking, just desperate to break the uncomfortable silence.

"What do you mean? I do."

"Outside? You have a pale complexion, that's all."

"Well, the sun is very bad for you. It fades fabrics - it surely makes sense that it would fade skin too. I wear a large hat to protect my face, a veil when I can."

He could imagine her so clearly, striding through the grounds like some kind of shade or ghost accompanied by her great hound. She'd look very striking. Peculiar, perhaps, but striking.

"I do everything for him," Hela said. "Feed him, walk him, clean up after him. He relies on me. That was the understanding when we first got him. If he was mine, I had to be responsible for him. As if I wouldn't be."

"Why did you want such a large dog?"

"Protection."

"From what?"

"Anyone I don't like."

Loki looked at Fenrir as he yawned, seeming very big but ultimately docile. Those teeth, though... They could certainly inflict some severe injuries.

"Would he attack on your command?"

"Happily, I've never needed to find out. But I find he's generally a good judge of character."

"Really? What does he think of me, for example?"

"I don't know. Try calling him over, let him smell you."

Loki was a little nervous, carefully putting his brush and easel down and crouching, holding out his hand and clicking his tongue.

"Hey," he tried. "Here."

Fenrir looked at him doubtfully, slipping off the couch like some kind of great sea creature rising above the waves before diving back into the abyss.

He prowled forward, nostrils twitching, the cold dampness of his nose finally brushing against his knuckles.

Loki found himself almost holding his breath, noting how his fist was about the size of the hound's muzzle, that it could probably leave him unable to paint in but a moment of anger, trying to judge what emotion was in those dark eyes.

Fenrir sneezed. Hela laughed, patting the chaise, calling him back.

"What does that mean?" Loki asked, wiping his hand on one of his painter's rags. "Does he like me?"

"I would say he's indifferent to you."

"Hm. Close enough. I'll take it."

Wry amusement was a good look on her. And in a little spark of rebellion, Loki decided that was how he was going to paint her, quickly making some adjustments to his original sketch with a few strokes of his brush.

"What was that?" Hela asked.

"What was what?"

"You just painted in the wrong place. That isn't where you were painting."

"It's my reference sketch. I liked your expression. I wanted to mark it down, recall it to mind for later, that's all."

And a good thing that he had for she'd suddenly grown very sour indeed.

"I don't want to look pretty," she said.

"That's a rare sentiment."

"You wouldn't either if you knew what it meant."

"Enlighten me then."

"My father intends to marry me off, no doubt to a man nearly twice my age who sees me as an ornament at best and a broodmare at worst."

She knew then, or at least suspected. Loki wasn't sure how to proceed, whether to confirm her suspicions or try to assuage them.

"Would it be so terrible?" he asked. "You'd have money, security. And an old man would likely die long before you, letting you enjoy a long widowhood in your own household."

"Well, you try being assigned to someone who can beat you and force themselves upon you for years of your life and tell me how it works out."

Loki was not easily shocked by his own estimation, but he found himself a little taken aback. She knew what her fears were and was not afraid to voice them.

"What do you suggest?" he asked. "I have to paint you or I won't be able to earn my living. I'm already giving you more leeway and control than I think your father would prefer."

"Paint me as I am, not as an idealised version. I want people to look at this painting and see me, not just another beautiful face. If I don't seem the perfect wife, I can hopefully avoid such attentions."

Loki didn't bother saying when he had planned to do that anyway.

"I'll do my best," he said instead. "But rest assured, I am on your side. And if you could work with me, I feel this will be easier for both of us."

He couldn't tell exactly how much she believed him. And maybe he didn't deserve to be believed at all.


	21. A Rendez-vous

Hela's face had really started to come together, at least in its early stages, when Loki heard the door open behind him.

"Oh," Thor said. "I thought you were avoiding this."

"I was," Hela said. "But Father finally managed to bully me into it."

"I think it's fun."

"Of course you do. You think everything's fun. It must be in your blood."

"Everything is fun. Almost everything, anyway. And when you think about it, not many people get to be painted. We should be honoured."

Hela rolled her eyes. This felt like a dispute they'd had many, many times about all kinds of subjects. Thor found wonder and excitement in so much of the world where his sister saw far more risk.

Of course, she'd lost her mother young and now she faced an uncertain future so maybe that wasn't surprising.

"Can I stop now?" Hela asked. "Are you here to take over?"

"I can do," Thor said. "If you're sure."

She stood up, stretching.

"I think I've done enough to last a few weeks. I'll see you later maybe."

"Can you bring me the dress you want to be painted in?" Loki asked. "For the colour?"

"I suppose so. I'll just go and fetch it."

Loki rolled his shoulders back, finishing a few more strokes of paint, quite happy with his work for the morning. He'd made good progress.

"Shall we start on your face then?" he asked, switching out the canvasses.

Well, he wasn't going to paint the expression that met his gaze when he turned round. Not unless he wanted to cause a scandal.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Thor murmured. "Do you know you've been here nearly a month now?"

"Only that long? Goodness, I haven't been working hard enough."

"More like you're hardly ever not working. You've done so much painting. I was hoping you'd spin it out rather longer."

"And yet I've only barely begun. These will take a long time to finish. I mean, look at these fabrics - they're so flat. They don't look real at all. I haven't even begun on highlights or shadows with any real detail. And the silks on the dresses? Ugh, I wouldn't try to convince a half-blind kitten that they were finished."

Thor was smiling at him, so amused by his vehemence.

"You're so passionate," he said softly. "I need to see you again."

"Shush," Loki said, hearing the distinct tap of dog claws on the floor outside.

Hela nudged the door open with her hip, a beautiful dress of almost iridescent shade in her arms. Darkest green, shimmering in the sunlight.

"Do try not to get any paint on it," she said. "I'd be very upset."

"Set it on the chair. It should be safe there. Thank you. It's beautiful. I can see why you'd want it featured."

Only when she'd left did he feel able to exhale.

"I want to see you too," he said. "But we really do need to be careful. And I need to make some more progress before I can order more... supplies. To ease things along."

"I won't pressure you, I promise," Thor said. "There's plenty of other things we can do. I just... I need to be near you."

"You're near me now."

"Not enough to feel your heat or I might be less agitated."

"Mm. Or moreso."

Loki mixed up a warm peach, focussing on the paler parts of Thor's face. His forehead, around his eyes. The bow above his lips.

He did miss those lips...

"Let's try tonight," he murmured. "But if your sister wants to stay up with us, we may have to postpone."

Oh, if only he could paint him smiling...


	22. Truths

It was easier to play cards with three, Loki had to admit. He didn't mind Hela's presence as such; in fact, he rather liked her. She was witty and intelligent and as evenings went on, she tended to relax a little.

"Tell us about your favourite painting you've ever done," she said as Loki tried to focus on his hand.

"It's difficult to say. I generally don't leave a work until I'm content with it."

"But some must be more perfunctory than others. Or some must be more successful perhaps."

He only had a seven in the right suit, he'd have to play it...

"Of course. My skills have improved over time as well. I've learned new techniques, better ones. And so I suppose my favourite picture would always be the one I finished most recently as it was the one I made with the highest degree of proficiency."

She raised her eyebrows, laying down the two of spades as a throwaway card.

"Such fancy words. It's alright, you don't have to impress us. We're not like the rest of them really."

"The rest of who?"

"The landed gentry. Even Frigga isn't really noble - she's smart, that's what got her far in society, even though intelligence in women is frowned upon. She moved in cultural circles and, well, you know that artists aren't suitable company for most."

"Hela," Thor said. "Don't offend him."

"I'm not offended," Loki assured him. "She's right. Very few families would spend time with me outside of the studio. You have to be a lot more prestigious than I am to be considered a social connection."

"That's how Frigga got into society in the first place. She was the muse of some playwright I think."

Loki aimed high with a jack but knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I didn't know this," Thor said. "She's never mentioned it to me."

"Well, it was a long time ago. I'm merely saying, it's no wonder that we're somewhat pariahs. We were elevated by Father's military career and wealth but everyone knows we're essentially commoners. And add into that all the rest and, well... The only people who would marry us are fortune-hunters."

"Is that why you're so resistant to the idea?" Loki asked. He was losing this round, placing his cards without care now.

"I don't want to be anyone's investment for money or children. I want to be left alone."

"Well, good thing we never meet anyone, I suppose," Thor said. "Queen of diamonds, mine I think."

"I don't have to meet anyone to end up engaged," Hela said as he picked up the cards. "That's the whole problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Thor! You know what these portraits are really for. Mine is going to be sent to one of Father's friends to display for half the season in the hopes that a rich old man finds me handsome enough to propose without having to meet me."

Loki's eyes moved across the table to watch Thor's face, the uncertainty there, the confusion and feeling the burn as that gaze was turned upon him.

"Is that true?" he asked.

Letting out a sigh, Loki tried to work out how to word this.

"Your father may have implied something in that direction, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Father is the one paying him," Hela said. "Don't think ill of him. I don't. Everyone has to eat."

"But it... It's not what you want. They can't force you to marry someone. You have to enter into marriage of your own free will or it doesn't count, that's how it works."

"It'll happen to you too. They'll want you to marry a perfect, doting little slip of a thing and have a hundred children. And a wife is unlikely to approve of the maiden aunt with a hound in the west wing."

Thor really looked like a huge part of his life had turned upside down suddenly, a huge obstacle that he hadn't ever seen in his life before.

"But you can't," he said. "Who would look after the estate?"

"I think I should leave you to discuss," Loki said, standing up. "I think you have a lot to talk about."

"No, stay," Hela said. "You are trying to rebel at least a little by painting me as I wish. If we're planning a council of war, maybe you ought to be part of it."

Loki hesitated. This was trouble, he could tell.

But on the other hand, he did like them. He liked Thor, obviously. Even if they were engaging in an emotionless affair, he had no desire to hurt him. If he could help, if they could avoid this unwanted development...

Well, it would be a good deed, perhaps.

He sat back down and let Hela top up his whisky.


	23. Half a Conversation

"The primary issues, as I see it, are these," Hela said, calmly returning the cards to their box. "Father wants good matches for each of us. I have no interest in being married ever and Thor is undecided, pending the right pair of fluttering eyelashes."

"I'm not a child," Thor said, giving her a withering look. "I'm not going to marry the first woman who looks at me twice."

"Why do you think you're not allowed to go into society alone, Thor? They're worried about who you'd bring back. You're too trusting and you'd be taken in by some ruthless husband hunter in about five minutes."

From Thor's shuffling of his feet, and the little warnings that Heimdall and Frigga had given him, Loki surmised that it might not be inappropriate women they were concerned about.

"The easiest way out for me would be to not have a portrait made at all," Hela continued. "But that's not a choice we have. If Loki doesn't paint it, someone else will. I'd rather have a friendly face in my corner than an indifferent one."

"Frigga is also on your side," Loki said.

Hela scoffed a little, stroking Fenrir's ears as he looked up at her.

"Oh, I'm sure she's positively desperate to keep me at home."

"She wants you to be happy," Loki said. "She told me so herself. Why do you think she's been sitting so often? She's trying to delay progress on your portrait, trying to spin out the days and weeks to lessen its chance of success."

He wasn't sure if she believed him. It was true though. Hela had more friends than she knew.

"All of you are willing to prevent this apart from your father," he said. "And even then, I truly believe he thinks he's doing the right thing. He's trying to make sure you're settled and provided for."

"But she is settled," Thor insisted. "She's settled here and she's much better at managing things than I am. I always thought... I always thought we'd both stay here and run the place together."

As Loki had suspected, it didn't seem he had voiced this in so many words before.

"I am not staying here to do all the work for you," Hela said. "You can get that idea out of your head right now."

"That's not what I meant. I meant we'd work together. This is your home too."

"So I have to make myself useful if I'm to be allowed to stay, is that it?"

"That's not what I meant. You should... have a say in how things are done, all of that."

She still seemed mistrustful. What an exhausting way to live.

Nostrils slightly flared, she finished her brandy and stood up in the same motion, her jaw set somewhat.

"I'll consider that. And at least you're aware of what's going on now. I'm going to bed. I need to think. Good evening."

She swept out, the door closing behind her with a quiet click, leaving the room in awkward silence.

Thor's look was faintly accusatory and Loki knew exactly why. But still. He was justified.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Thor asked again.

It was such an expected question and yet Loki's stomach rolled with guilt.

"Because your father told me it in confidence before I had even met you. It was part of the commission and not even your mother was supposed to know, though she'd already guessed. It's family business and I am not part of your family."

"I thought we were friends."

Was that seriously his issue with all of this?

"Thor, come on. We barely know each other. My livelihood comes first; it has to. But... I have a great deal of sympathy for Hela's plight and, like she says, if it wasn't me, it would be someone else. Someone who would follow your father's instructions to the letter. So you can think whatever you want of me. I don't care."

"I don't even know what I think," Thor said. "I'm too... stunned by all of this. I need to absorb it all."

"If you don't want anything to do with me anymore, I understand."

Those blue eyes meeting his, the warmth in them even now.

"Why would it make a difference if everything is merely physical?"

"I suppose it wouldn't."

They stared at each other for a few moments and then Thor reached for his hand.

"I don't think I want to think too much for the rest of the night," he said. "Would you mind helping me focus on something else?"

Maybe he was right and it would help. Maybe it would at least get rid of some tension.

Loki let himself be led upstairs to his room.


	24. Apologies

The guest chamber felt like a sanctuary to some extent, separate from the rest of the house. Neither of them spoke, a strange, tense silence. There was a lot between them suddenly, it seemed.

Loki found himself grasped by the lapels, kissed almost aggressively, like Thor was trying to tell him something through only lip contact.

Well, that wasn't the only place lips could be used.

Pulling back with a brief press, Loki knelt, reaching for the ties on Thor's trousers.

He seemed vaguely surprised, but didn't try to stop him, leaning against the door, his breathing heavy.

Loki looked up at him, for a reaction, unable to identify it from the angle. He'd leant his head back a little, almost like he was overwhelmed.

His cock was already half-hard as Loki drew it out, stroking gently, distantly aware that he meant this almost as an apology but trying his best not to think about that. It was too close to there being feelings involved.

He carefully laid a kiss on the head, letting his tongue slip out just a little, trying to put on something of a show. Thor was so skilled at this that Loki felt a degree of challenge to impress.

So far, so good. He ran his tongue up each side and traced the thick vein along the lower edge, hearing Thor's breath hitch and shake.

Reaching for his hands, Loki tried to lace his fingers into his hair, wanting to feel that connection as he took Thor's length into his mouth.

It was very gratifying to feel Thor's hands twitch, instinctively gripping his scalp, not quite enough to hold him but enough to feel his presence there.

Thor's technique had been all speed and overwhelming sensation. And Loki could do that, but instead he was keen to make things last, to draw the experience out. He moved his head in steady, deep bobs, sucking on the retreat, tasting that bitter flavour.

"Mm..." Thor breathed. "Oh, Loki."

"Hm?"

"You're incredible."

Well, that was nice to hear. Perhaps he was even forgiven for his omissions.

Aware that his knees would not manage to hold him forever, Loki began speeding up just a little, sucking all the harder, swirling his tongue sometimes for variety.

He could feel when Thor was close, that change of grip, the way he gasped, leaning forward to let him finish in his mouth.

Looking up, he found Thor gazing down at him with wonder, a thumb stroking his cheek, breathing hard until he jerked and spilled, almost like he hadn't expected it.

To Loki's surprise, he immediately joined him on the floor, taking his face in his hands to kiss him. Was he tasting himself, Loki wondered. Surely he couldn't miss it.

"No one's ever done that for me before," Thor murmured.

"What? What do you mean?"

"It... It wasn't done, you see."

"Reciprocation wasn't done? Did both your lovers dislike the taste so much?"

"No, they... They were a year older than me, and they were the heads of house, so... So they wouldn't..."

Loki tried to understand what he was being told. It sounded very suspicious.

"Thor, were you... Were you being used by them?"

A light scoff.

"Of course not. It was entirely mutual."

"Are you sure? They wouldn't do such things for you and they tried to humiliate you..."

"They thought they were humiliating me maybe," Thor said, getting up and tucking himself back into his clothes. "But I liked it. I liked making them moan, making them lose themselves. I had such power over them. I could make them beg even."

"All the same. Were they like that with all the boys?"

"Not all of us, no. I know there were a few of us, but..."

Loki couldn't help but be horrified. It was clearly bullying, the worst kind of bullying. All that skill Thor had, he'd learned for boys who saw him only as a convenient mouth to be used for their pleasure.

"And these two, were they your so-called particular friends who now won't so much as write to you?"

Thor's face told him everything he needed to know. He might try to deny it all he wanted, he might have been able to find a strength in all of this, but that didn't change the origin of it.

"Hey," he said, getting up, forcing Thor to look at him. "You are worth so much more than they thought. You _are_ more than that."

"It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Thor, it is important to me that you know this."

He shrugged, seeming completely baffled by Loki's fervour.

"Alright, I know it."

He didn't, Loki was sure of it. He didn't understand how badly he had been used, didn't understand that things could be different, better. But he was determined to show him so over whatever time they had together.

Pulling him into a firm kiss, he tried to convey the strength of what he was saying, resting their foreheads together.

"You're worth more than any idiot rich man thinks of you. And so is your sister. And I promise, I will help you any way I can, however limited that might be."

He wouldn't know until much, much later just how big a contribution he would make.


	25. Past Tales

Ordering extra castor oil made Loki blush a little, but he needed the supplies anyway and, besides, he had a new mission with Thor now. His purpose was to show him a more caring side to sex, show him that a lover worth such a term would treat him and his attentions as a precious gift.

It was all lingering kisses, soft touches. His rule about no contact in the studio had rather gone out the window. It wasn't just brief pecks but far more passionate embraces.

It was dangerous, he knew, but somehow he couldn't resist.

The portraits were making good progress. After a few weeks, he had more or less finished Frigga's face completely and could focus on the slow process of building up the rest of the composition.

He asked her about what kinds of flowers she might like and agreed to use her embroidery piece as a reference. They went downstairs to collect it together.

"Hela was telling me that you have an artistic background yourself," Loki said. "She mentioned the theatre, I think."

"Oh, hardly. And goodness, that was a long time ago. I can barely recall it."

That was a lie, he thought. She was embarrassed for some reason. Some scandal?

"I simply wondered if you would want any references in your portrait. Any quotes you might want to invoke, subtly."

"You enjoy the subtext of the whole thing, don't you?" she asked, climbing onto a stool to take down her artwork. "Why is that?"

Deflection. He knew it well.

"I see it as part of the personalisation process. I like to include some items that have meaning for the sitter alone. I like hiding things in plain sight, I suppose."

Maybe that was too much detail. Too close to revealing something about himself. He carried the picture for her, getting to examine the stitches more closely. They really were stunning. So fine and delicate.

"I think the heartsease might suit," Frigga said. "I know they're not the most spectacular flower but I always liked the shades of them. The yellow and purple together."

A little hint of purple, the most royal of colours. It was a good idea. Subtle but there.

"I think that will suit very well," Loki said. "Thank you."

She paused at the door for a moment, hesitating.

"There was once a man who loved me but who I did not love," she said softly. "He was a playwright, a very successful one. He thought by bringing me into high, privileged society that I would develop the same feelings. Instead, I met Odin and fell in love, even though he sometimes drives me to distraction. He never forgave me for marrying another man. And so when Hela told you such a thing..."

"You think she was trying to hurt you?"

"Perhaps. More likely, she was simply being rather thoughtless. She's like that sometimes."

Somehow Loki could imagine that.

"I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Unrequited love is a fact of life and how one deals with it is what matters. You cannot spirit up love where there is none."

He wasn't sure if she was quite in the mood for advice, but at least he'd confirmed that any thawing if relations between mother and daughter were definitely still in the early stages.

Loki carefully added a small order of red pigment to help him mix up just the right shade.

Still, his curiosity was piqued. Who was this playwright? He couldn't pretend to know anything of comptemporary theatre, but he might have heard the name in passing perhaps.

As he tried to fill in some of Odin's fabrics, a sombre suit that he had chosen evoking some subtle parallels with his former uniform, Loki wondered what he thought about his wife's past. He must know about it if Hela did. The fact that she had not given in to pressure, had waited until she met someone she truly wanted to marry.

And therefore why didn't he want that freedom for his daughter?


	26. Odin

"How did you meet your wife?"

Odin was not the most comfortable-looking sitter Loki had ever met. Which was not to say that he was an ineffective one; he had natural dignity of a type some people would find extremely enviable. Loki had seen enough noblemen to know that they often spent years trying to cultivate such presence, some more successfully than others.

"Goodness. It was a long time ago. Why do you ask?"

Loki was trying to capture his face but had found his jaw rather tense.

"Sitting for a portrait can be rather exhausting. I find that speaking of happy times can help with relaxation."

"Hm. Well, it wasn't a happy time when we first came across each other. I was never particularly one for society and after Hela's mother died, I felt even less desire to be with other people."

"Were you terribly pained by her passing?"

That single blue eye fixed him with a stare.

"Of course. She was my wife. It's true that we had been... apart for a long time, close to ten years while I was on campaign, and we had grown into rather different people, but she was the woman I had promised to love and cherish for the rest of our lives and I am proud to say that I honoured those vows as best I could."

"I meant no offence, sir."

He waved a hand, shaking his head a little.

"Don't worry. I understand how it seems. Barely a year after my wife had passed, a young child at home and I was seen courting. A lot of people took against me, considered me heartless to move on so quickly. In truth, part of me never did move on. But when I met Frigga, it was... It was the first time that I had felt happy in a long, long time."

This was what Loki had been looking for. Odin was gazing out into the distance, far more relaxed, the muscles of his face far more neutral.

"I almost didn't meet her," he said, his voice soft. "It was close to Christmas and a dear friend from my army days had taken a house relatively nearby with the express purpose of trying to draw me out of my gloom. Insisted I visit for dinners and dances - not that I partook, of course. And one evening, as I was there under duress, I heard her voice. So clear. She was talking about politics, of all things. I sat nearby, just listening. And she was... so intelligent. So much better informed than the people she was speaking with, but she was never condescending. She always listened to them, tried to understand their points of view."

Loki could just imagine it.

"After a while, I managed to strike up a conversation with her myself. I know it sounds like something from a novel, but it was truly like I had known her for years. We began a correspondence and with every letter, I fell more and more deeply in love with her."

"You're very lucky," Loki said, delicately working on the more shadowy parts of his face. "To have married for love both times."

He wasn't even really thinking as he said it. It wasn't meant to mean anything.

Odin cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, Mr Laufeyson," he said. "You are an artist. You couldn't understand. I currently enjoy a generous military pension but that will not last forever. I will be able to leave some money to both of my children but the reality is that I fear for their future and therefore the future of the estate that Frigga and I have built here. I would have them both settled before I die if I can."

Loki tried to work out what to say but didn't get much of a chance.

"I know Frigga does not agree with this," Odin continued. "I know she seems to think that things will be resolved, but... Alas, it is probably due to my faults that I have one child with enough skill and intelligence to run the estate but little by way of compassion and another who I fear would be indulgent to a fault."

The potential solution was so nearly within his grasp but Loki didn't dare suggest it out loud. It was so clear that they ought to combine forces and work together.

He was afraid that if he suggested it that Odin would reject it out of hand.

"All the same, it's not out of cruelty that I'm trying to push Hela towards marriage. Truly, it's not. It's out of fear."

"Fear of what?"

"That if she waits too long, she'll realise she made a mistake and be desperately unhappy. For all society claims otherwise, she is still young. I remember being her age. But the fact of the matter is that her choices are more limited than mine were."

"You were able to marry whomever you chose."

"A great privilege. I am not ignorant of the fact."

He was melancholy, regretful and Loki wondered if he was beginning to reconsider perhaps.

"You must think me very unfair."

"I'm sure you have good reasons, for all that they are obscure to me."

A sigh, his eye falling closed for a monent.

"The truth is... The truth is that there is a man already interested in Hela's hand. He is not who I would have chosen for her. Too old, too... beneath her."

"You are her father. You can refuse a suitor, surely, if he is unsuitable."

"I have rejected him many times and still he writes to me. I worry that perhaps the only way to dissuade him from pursuing her is if she is already married."

"I'm not sure I entirely follow. You fear he would continue after you passed, when you were no longer able to protect her? But surely Thor would..."

"I fear that he is a man capable of violence."

Loki did not understand. He didn't understand at all. Some kind of violent man intent on marrying Hela? So intent that he would potentially harm her? Force her?

Well, it happened, didn't it? You heard sometimes of young women expected to marry men who had committed the most dreadful crimes against them in order to save their family's reputation. A husband would be able to bring charges against such an offence but a father or brother might not find the law on their side. He wasn't sure how it worked.

Still, all this talk of money, or potential regrets, of the estate, it all seemed rather like a cover for his true reasons to have Hela married and whisked away.

"Does your wife know of these fears?" Loki asked.

"No. No, and I would much rather it stayed that way. She would be... anxious."

"Could you blame her for that? Her daughter could be in danger."

"Please, just paint."

He didn't seem overly angry. He seemed more resigned.

And meanwhile, Loki was becoming more and more agitated. Should he tell Hela about this additional risk? She wouldn't believe him, he felt. She'd scoff and call it a lie and, besides, she had Fenrir to protect her.

Frigga, then? After being explicitly asked not to tell? He'd lose the commission, most likely.

That only left Thor who, bless him, was not always the most subtle of beings. He might not be able to keep a secret.

And the household seemed increasingly full of those.


	27. Excursion

"You are troubled," Thor said.

He'd come to watch Loki paint, working on some of the greenery on the outdoor portraits, aware that he was, indeed, stressed.

He couldn't get what Odin had told him out of his mind. Couldn't stop turning it over. Was there really such a dreadful risk or was he merely an over-anxious parent? Maybe it wasn't as serious as he thought.

"Just a little tension," he said. "Nothing a little rest won't help."

"I could help."

"I'm sure you could."

He was trying to be careful with his words. You never knew when someone else was in the corridor outside. Being overheard was a great risk.

"I'm planning to take a walk after dinner," Thor said. "Down to the lake. You'd be most welcome to join me."

Maybe some fresh air would do him good. Get him out of the warm studio room, out into nature...

"I'd like that very much."

He was looking forward to it all the more when they met in the hallway after their respective meals, Thor putting on his outdoor boots.

"Be careful," Odin was saying. "I know an evening walk is healthy but there are things that bite out there at this time of year."

"We'll be very careful."

Loki felt the look rather than saw it, that sense of warning.

"It's very kind of Thor to invite me to see more of your home," he said.

After the atmosphere of the house, the warm evening air was a great relief. There was enough of a breeze to take the edge off the humidity, the sound of insects clicking and buzzing, swallows swooping overhead in the still blue sky.

Every step really did relax him. He felt like he'd heard a lot in the last few days and hadn't quite managed to sort it all out in his mind.

"Anything interesting happen on the estate today?" he asked.

"Not particularly. I like this time of year, though. Everything's growing, even day by day it seems. I love seeing it, all fresh and healthy, knowing the harvest will come in a few months."

He carefully waited until they were out of sight of the house before reaching for Loki's hand. This was foolhardy, but Loki couldn't deny that he liked it.

"I wish you'd tell me what's upsetting you," Thor said. "I can tell there's something."

"It's nothing you have to worry about," Loki lied.

"All the more reason to tell me. I might be able to help. Bring an outside perspective."

Loki considered it. He did. And yet, he knew he couldn't tell him, not completely. Certainly not until he knew a little more.

But maybe he could explain it a little. Just the principles he worked under.

"Everyone talks to me when we're in the studio together," he said. "It helps people relax, it helps me get to know them a little. It's good for the painting. But anything said to me in that situation is private."

Thor looked at him sideways, absorbing what he'd said, instantly comprehending the heart of what that meant.

"You were painting my father yesterday," he said. "So something he said is troubling you."

"But I can't talk about it. The painting room is sacred. I wouldn't talk about anything you say in private with anyone else, even if we weren't... as we are."

"Is it about Hela?"

"I cannot tell you. Please, leave it."

He knew Thor didn't want to but he was kind enough to let go, to resist the urge to ask questions.

They reached the lake, and even though he'd been in person only once, Loki still felt an incredible degree of familiarity. It was like he knew this place intimately. He was painting it rather well from his original sketch, even if he did say so himself.

Of course, over the years this place would change. The trees would grow and the plants would go through their dance of blossom and death and renewal, but it would still be recognisably this place. And maybe Thor would look at it sometimes in his later years and smile and remember the affair they'd had long ago.

"I think I'd like to take that swim you mentioned when we first came down here," Loki said, taking off his jacket and waistcoat.

"I was rather hoping you'd say that."


	28. Dip

The water was extremely, unnecessarily cold. Loki coughed and gasped and all round probably didn't look nearly as enticing as he had hoped he would.

There was a splash as Thor joined him, swimming round him, grinning as water ran down his face.

"Refreshing, isn't it?"

"Bracing, certainly."

He could reach the bottom with his toes, the strange, slimy feel of rock beneath him. Not the most pleasant thing in the world, but at least he knew he wasn't going to drown.

On the other hand, Thor seizing his wrist and pulling him close, his skin so warm, eager for kisses, was one of the nicer experiences of his life.

He felt so cherished as Thor held him, his grip firm but gentle at the same time, still a little unpractised in these more tender pursuits but keen to learn, it seemed. And Loki was only too happy to teach him. It didn't have to be fast and efficient. You could enjoy a little languor, a little peace and calm. It was a luxury really. Something that wasn't always possible.

Those soft lips, smooth skin beneath his fingers as he ran his hands all over Thor's back, even down lower, over the outside of his sodden small clothes and those strong thighs.

The sound of panting reached his ears just in time, pushing himself back just as Fenrir barrelled over the hill and leapt into the lake, paddling his way out towards them like people being in the water was the most delightful unexpected game.

"Hey," Thor laughed, reaching out to him and scratching his ears. "Hey, boy."

"What on earth are you doing?" Hela asked, hands on hips as she came into view.

"Swimming," Thor said.

"I wasn't talking to you. Heel!"

Fenrir obediently swam in a wide circle, bounding out of the lake and shaking himself off. Hela pouted at them from beneath her sun hat, all visible distaste.

"You're a bad influence."

Thor laughed, treading water. He looked so free, so joyous. Loki felt such warmth towards him. Despite all the worries of his life, the new facts he was learning about his family, both their past and their future, and he could still laugh.

Then again, he didn't exactly know the full extent of it...

Clicking her tongue, Hela led her now very damp dog away, Thor turning back to Loki with that relaxed grin on his face.

"Where were we?"

Feeling suitably reckless, Loki swam back to him in just a couple of strokes, reaching for his face.

"She's right, you know," he said. "You are a terribly corrupting influence."

"And here I thought you were the one influencing me."

"Perhaps it's a bit of both."

He would happily have stayed running his fingers through Thor's damp hair and enjoying his kisses for hours, but unfortunately the sky began to turn decidedly more orange and pink, a stronger breeze picking up, and they were obliged to emerge from the water and pull on their dry clothes over wet skin.

It had helped. Loki felt distinctly calmer. He'd put his concerns more or less out of his head briefly.

Seeing Odin and Frigga waiting for them in the window of the parlour put fear directly back into Loki's heart though. Could they tell? Was it obvious? Or did they think they had simply taken an innocent swim?

They had come into the hallway, Frigga's hands clasped in front of her, a little too tightly clenched.

"Hela tells us you were swimming," she said.

"Yes," Loki said. "Yes, Thor's quite right that a few lengths of the lake is very refreshing of a summer's evening."

"I hope you were being... careful," Odin said.

"Of course, sir. Keeping well out of the deepest parts. Good evening."

He tried to walk normally, tried not to reveal too much. He had the most horrible sensation that they were suspicious.

At the top of the stairs, out of sight, he paused for a moment, trying to listen.

"...not like that," Thor was saying. "I promise."

"Good. I thought we were past this."

That was Odin. And Frigga was saying something too but she was a lot quieter, her voice not carrying far.

"Trust me," Thor said. "I just enjoy his company, that's all. Ask Hela, she plays cards with us. You're worrying over nothing."

"Very well," Odin said. "I apologise."

Loki crept along to his room, a little troubled. They did suspect. It sounded like Thor had successfully convinced them otherwise for now, but they really did have to be careful.

He'd rather this affair both began and ended well.


	29. Plans

He didn't really need Frigga to be present anymore, but he didn't mind her sitting with him. Besides, he wanted to try planting a few seeds in her mind. Try to find out a little information.

"I was asking your husband how you met recently," he said mildly, focussing on the highlights of her hair in the sunlight. Silver and gold.

"Oh, really? What did he say?"

"It was clear how much he valued your intellect. He heard you in discussion and that drove him to try to know you better."

She smiled, blushing a little.

"I had a terrible habit of speaking my mind. For whatever reason, he found that attractive."

"Well, intelligence is important. I've seen enough men with beautiful, boring wives and enough women with handsome, boring husbands to know that. He loves you a great deal."

"And I love him. We're very lucky. That's why I'm so baffled that he seems so determined to push Hela into a loveless marriage."

This was dangerous ground. He had to try to steer her in the right direction but not so obviously that his influence would be noticed. He could easily be found out.

"I'm sure he must have reasons," he said carefully.

"So he claims, but he refuses to share them with me. How I'm supposed to help without any understanding of the situation I really don't know."

"There seemed to be a degree of... anxiety in him about it. Perhaps he's trying to protect you in some way."

"Well, I wish he wouldn't. I'm sure it can't be as urgent or as terrible as he thinks. Lord knows I've dealt with enough over the years to handle most things."

Loki hoped she was right, but he couldn't be too optimistic.

Over the weeks, the portraits began to take on more shape, progressing even with the distraction of Thor appearing from time to time, chatting about the estate and how the growing season was coming on, about all the rumours among the tenants.

"They're already planning the midsummer festival," he said. "It's a lot of fun. I was hoping I'd be able to convince Father that we should all go."

"What kind of event is it?"

"Rather rustic, but fun. They have a meal and a dance down at the village hall."

"Do you often go?"

"Mother and I do. Hela doesn't care for the noise and Father always makes his excuses, but I like it. I wondered if you might... like to come."

Loki's immediate response was to hesitate. When Thor's parents were already suspicious, an evening's socialising outside of the house like equals might be a step too far...

But then again, Frigga would be there. And there would be women. It would not be difficult to dance with a few pretty faces and hopefully assuage her concerns.

"Sounds like fun," he said.

"And, uh... Afterwards, I wondered if we might..."

Loki was working on clouds today, one of his least favourite subjects, trying to spirit up delicate, fluffy shapes with curls of his brush.

It would certainly be special if they chose a specific date, a celebratory time.

At present, Thor had been very accommodating to Loki's urging to go slow. He was so responsive and eager. Loki was enjoying discovering every part of his body, every little place that made him gasp. His nipples, for instance, were very sensitive and Loki loved to have him squirming beneath his attentions, such open pleasure.

The additional oil he'd ordered specially was nestled among his other bottles, waiting.

"I think we might," he said.

Thor grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I can hardly wait," he said. "I'm so excited to know how it feels to be filled like that."

The way he spoke about it so openly made Loki rather nervous. There wasn't much else they could be talking about if anyone overheard them. Food, maybe, but it would have to be a very innocent pair of ears that came to that conclusion.

"So how far exactly have you gone before?" he asked quietly. "You said you were always too tense but have you used..."

He held up his hand, scissoring his fingers.

"A little," Thor said. "Not really."

Hmm. It was difficult to jump right into the depths, as it were.

"Maybe we ought to try that a little in advance."

Thor's eyes practically shone with excitement.

"Definitely," he said. "Very much so."


	30. Testing

Loki sat in his room, waiting for Thor.

They'd not arranged for cards this evening, Loki claiming he was tired when he knew Hela was in earshot. He was trying to be more careful. Trying not to be seen spending too much time with Thor.

A creak outside. A footstep?

Apparently not. Anticipation was rising through him, idly sketching just to have something to do with his hands.

A figure. A male figure. He consciously forced himself not to draw the muscles and breadth that were dancing through his head, made himself try to draw a more generic body. A shading exercise.

It was coming along rather well when he heard a quiet knock. He stood up almost with a degree of fear, taking deep breaths, and opened the door.

Thor smiled at him, damp hair pulled back, a soft-collared shirt, smelling of soap.

"You've had a bath," Loki said, knowing it was a little ridiculous as he pushed the door shut behind him.

"I wanted to be clean for you," Thor said softly.

He was pulling off his clothes already, revealing his freshly scrubbed skin, putting an uncomfortable part of Loki in mind of a sacrifice of some kind. A virgin preparing for their midsummer meeting with the altar.

"I'm so excited," Thor said. "I already had to take the edge off or I might not have managed to walk here."

Loki tried not to imagine the splash of bath water, a wrist working busily among the soap bubbles.

"Alright," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "We'll go slow. Talk to me, let me know what feels good."

"Kisses feel good."

Chuckling a little, Loki granted that request, easing him backwards onto the bed and starting to undo his trousers.

"Lie back and relax," he murmured. "I'll look after you."

Thor grinned, lifting his hips to let him pull them off, no small clothes beneath, just damp body hair and his cock, soft and plump against his thigh.

"Right," Loki said, pouring out a little oil and beginning to warm it in his hand. "Spread your legs for me."

"Mm, gladly."

Unconsciously, Loki found himself licking his lips as Thor parted his thighs revealing everything to him, a tight circle of muscles that soon he'd...

Deep breaths. One thing at a time. This was about Thor after all.

To begin with, he simply ran his fingers round the outside, painting his skin with oil, Thor letting out a soft sigh.

"Alright so far?"

"Yes. It's... strangely pleasant."

"Try to relax. I'll tell you before I try pushing inside."

After a while, Loki added more oil, judging him to be sufficiently accustomed to being touched.

"Ready?"

"Very ready."

The tip of his middle finger slipped in surprisingly easily, Thor gasping sharply.

"Still alright?"

"Yes. It's a very strange feeling, but it doesn't hurt."

Loki rotated his wrist, pressing lightly around the rim, not stretching him but giving a little pressure. Letting him get used to the intrusion. The heat was rather intense, Thor breathing heavily.

"I'm going to push in properly now."

Little by little, steady, very, very carefully, he began pressing inside in small thrusts of his hand, all the way inside until his knuckles almost brushed Thor's skin.

He'd gone very pink, holding his breath and then taking sudden, deep inhales.

"There," Loki said quietly. "There we are. Well done. How does it feel?"

"Very strange."

"I think we can do better than that."

It took a while for him to find it, the right place. It had been a while since he'd tried to on another man. But he knew when he had when Thor made a strange, curious sound, tilting his hips a little. So deliciously responsive.

Watching his face, Loki carefully ran the tip of his finger around that little bundle of nerves, watching as Thor's jaw went a little slack.

"Good?" he asked.

"I think so," Thor said. "It's... Mm..."

His cock was beginning to thicken, letting out a sound of loss when Loki withdrew his hand, frowning. Wanting more. And more he would get.

"Let me try with two," he said, being liberal with the oil. "A little more stretch."

"Mm, yes. I want to feel it."

It took a while for Thor's body to yield enough, but eventually Loki was stroking him firmly from the inside with two fingers, letting him get used to the idea before seeking out his prostate once more, giving it the lightest touch. Even that was enough to make Thor gasp.

"Alright?"

"Mm!"

Loki couldn't resist a slight chuckle.

"On midsummer night, I'm going to stretch you properly," he murmured. "However long it takes. I'll have you slick and ready and open and then, only then, I'll press into you and find this place."

"Yes," Thor said, reaching for his cock, stroking it. "Yes, you'll fill me up."

"And with every thrust," Loki said, starting to slowly rub properly, a soft but steady rhythm. "I'll hit this perfect spot. Again and again and again."

"Over and over..."

"Exactly. More and more and more until you're completely sated."

"Don't stop."

"You like it?"

"Mmf!"

It didn't take long before Thor spilled over his own hand, his body clenching around Loki's fingers, panting and reaching for him immediately.

"One moment," Loki said, fetching a cloth to wipe him more or less clean before snuggling into his arms. Still fully clothed. Trying to maintain a modicum of control.

"How was it?" he asked, like he didn't already know the answer. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It was incredible," Thor murmured, laying kisses on his face. "I can't wait for the real thing. Having you between my legs, pushing inside. It will be everything I've ever dreamed of, I'm sure. I almost wish it was tonight."

"Anticipation makes things sweeter," Loki said, trying to sound authoritative.

Pretending he didn't want to skip the waiting too.


	31. Dance

"You're absolutely sure you won't join us?" Frigga asked, putting on a light summer coat. "I'm sure there's plenty of food. You'd be very welcome."

"Quite certain," Hela said, standing with her arms folded at the bottom of the stairs. "I don't enjoy being around people at the best of times, let alone when they're being jolly."

"It'll be fun," Thor said.

"If you say so."

"You can tell us all about it when you get back," Odin said, kissing his wife on the cheek. "Send my apologies."

Frigga looked very beautiful and graceful, wearing a fine grey silk dress, taking Thor's arm as they set out.

"Are you much of a dancer, Loki?" she asked, their shoes crunching on the path.

"I've been known to try a reel or two, but I'm not terribly good. That's why I've brought some sketching paper. I so rarely get to draw motion."

"Just as long as you remember to relax a little," she said. "This is a celebration after all, not a time for working. Make sure you enjoy yourself."

Loki did his very best not to blush when he thought of what Thor and he planned to do when they returned to the house later on and how enjoyable it ought to be.

"I'm sure I will," he said.

It was strange to be part of a group considered very elevated. Loki was not used to being bowed or curtsied to. He rather liked it, in a guilty way.

Frigga was effortlessly elegant, putting everyone at ease, addressing people by name, asking after their families. She was very clearly the lady of the manor, gracious with it. Loki had met plenty people who had no idea who lived on their land, let alone remembering anything about them.

He found himself sitting by Thor's side, a bowl of very hearty stew and a hunk of bread before him, listening to the local vicar talk about the time of year and the turning of the seasons and so on.

At one point, he definitely felt a hand brush his thigh under the table, an incredibly reckless move on Thor's part, obliging him to steel his expression into complete neutrality.

Another touch. Loki cleared his throat in warning, trying to make it clear that tablecloth or not, this was much too risky.

Fortunately, perhaps, they were both suddenly distracted by Frigga dropping her knife, sending it clattering onto the floor.

"Are you alright, Mother?" Thor said, on his feet immediately to pick it up for her.

"Uh..." she said. "Uh, yes, of course. How clumsy of me."

Loki watched her with some alarm, noting how some colour had drained from her face, her hand trembling a little. She didn't look well. She looked like something had shocked her almost.

She was looking down, looking away as Thor sat back in his chair, his hand on her shoulder, obviously concerned. What was it? Had she seen something? Someone?

Loki looked out over the crowd with a degree of suspicion, but could see nothing out of place. There were merely people enjoying themselves, finishing up their meals, children laughing and running up and down, grandparents holding sleeping infants, young men and women eyeing each other, clearly trying to decide who to ask to dance. He couldn't tell what it might be. Perhaps just a strange turn.

"Do you need to go home?" he asked as the middle tables began to be moved out of the way and the musicians began to set up their instruments.

"No, no. I'm fine. Just a little slip of the hand, that's all."

It wasn't the most believable lie he'd ever heard. Something was wrong here.

"Thor," Loki said. "Why don't you go make a young lady's evening by asking her to dance? I've noticed quite a few eyes on you."

He hoped his meaningful look was meaningful enough. Thor met his gaze and stood up, adjusting his cravat.

"I'll ask Hilde," he said. "i should only dance with married ladies. Don't want to start any rumours."

Loki waited until he had gone and bowed to a jolly-looking woman, taking her hand and heading to join the dancers already twirling around the floor.

He took out his roll of paper and pencil, sketching swirling skirts and coats, trying to be subtle as he cleared his throat.

"What was it really?" he asked.

Frigga sighed, gently clapping her hands in rhythm.

"I thought I saw someone," she said. "Someone I haven't seen in years. But it can't have been. I must have been mistaken."

Hesitating, Loki wondered what to say. Whether or not to imply what he was thinking - that this person might be the dangerous man Odin had been so afraid of.

"You should dance too," Frigga said. "Please, don't worry about me. I'm perfectly well."

A rough sketch more or less done, Loki thought that perhaps she wanted a moment alone. He could grant her that.

"Point out a suitable lady for me," he said.

She sent him a dark-haired beauty, one who seemed to have no shortage of offers but who jumped at the chance to take a turn with him. Almost too eagerly.

"Are you trying to make someone jealous?" Loki asked her as they took to the floor.

"I might be."

Hm. She seemed fun. He picked up the steps fairly easily, moving forward for two and back and turn to the side and step...

"Have you noticed any strangers around recently?" he asked.

"What an odd question. You're a stranger."

"I know, but... humour me and I'll put on a show for your paramour."

She grinned at him, her cheeks a little pink and eyes sparkling as they twirled.

"I suppose there was a man in the village a few days ago. Old guy, looked like he'd been through some tough times. Massive eyebrows. Used to be a red-head, if I'm any judge."

"How old?"

"Fifty, perhaps? Or a little older. It's hard to say."

Hmm. It wasn't much to go on, but a man possibly around Frigga's age. So if that was who she had seen, if she recognised him, if she was afraid of him...

The dance came to and end and Loki bowed to his partner, kissing her knuckles, getting a delighted giggle as she clearly looked over his shoulder to see if this was having the desired effect.

"Be careful not to play with his feelings too hard," he said, making his way back towards his seat.

A seat that no longer had Frigga sitting a few places along from it.


	32. Peculiarities

For a moment, Loki stared at the empty chair and then he tried to be reasonable. It was probably nothing to worry about. Perhaps someone had asked her to dance.

He scanned the hall, looking for her, finding Thor dutifully stepping up with his next partner, chatting to her amiably. No sign of his mother.

A dreadful worry seized his heart, a horrible chill, trying to decide what he ought to do. She was not in the hall. Therefore, perhaps she had simply stepped outside for air. Yes. Yes, that made sense. It was warm in here after all.

Trying not to move too fast, not to attract attention, Loki made his way to the door, finding Frigga outside in conversation with the vicar.

"Oh, Mr Laufeyson," she said. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling terribly well after all. The reverend has very kindly offered me his carriage to take me home."

"Should I fetch Thor?"

"No, no. You should stay and enjoy yourselves."

Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she was. But Loki was well and truly aboard the train of thought that said she had seen someone, possibly the stranger he'd heard about, who might be the very same man Odin was concerned about.

He bid her goodnight as she stepped into the rustic carriage, feeling distinctly uneasy. He followed the vicar back into the hall, still full of dancers. A slightly slower pace, Thor delicately shuffle-stepping. Loki went back to his seat, back to sketching.

In truth, he was keeping an eye out for anyone matching the vague description he'd been given. Eyebrows especially. He scanned the crowd, drawing almost mechanically. But he drew a lot all the same. Page after page. It was a good exercise in motion and speed, getting expressions down in a fraction of the time he usually did.

Was that the stranger? That head turned away? Or that figure barely glanced between heads?

"Hey," Thor said, flopping into the seat next to him, warm and sparkling from exercise. He hadn't noticed him approaching. "Where's my mother?"

"She wasn't feeling well but wants us to have a good evening. The vicar lent her his carriage."

"That's a shame. She loves midsummer."

Should he tell him anything more? Or would it just worry him, possibly unnecessarily? After all, it might be nothing.

"Can I see your drawings?" Thor asked, almost shy.

"They're very rough."

He was still able to identify most of the people in them, the ones Loki had paid attention to. The ladies he'd danced with, some of the people looking on, one of a family whose obvious joy had caught his attention.

"Rough?" Thor scoffed. "They're incredible. You should give this to them."

"Why?"

"Having a picture of a happy time? So few people have that. They'd love it."

It was a sweet thought, Thor all over really. And after a little more convincing, Loki made his way over to the gentleman in question, a portly man with laughing eyes, a young child clinging to his arm.

"Excuse me, sir. Sorry to intrude. I'm employed by Sir Odin to paint portraits of his family and Thor simply insists that I give you this."

He genuinely hadn't expected them to be so thrilled. So joyful, so grateful. No one in all his years of working commissions had ever been so grateful for a portrait. And it was so rough, so unpolished...

Thor came up behind him, laying a companionable hand on his shoulder. A simple, friendly gesture.

"Shall we go home?" he asked.

Loki nodded and tried to put thoughts of strangers out of his head.

Of course, it took a while for them to actually manage to leave as Thor had to bid goodnight to dozens of people, promising to help with lots of little projects over the next few days.

"You really care about them, don't you?" Loki asked as they stepped out into the balmy evening air.

"Of course. They're... friends. As close to friends as I have anyway. I'd much rather be in amongst them some days I think. But they tolerate me for a while, not the whole time. I expect they worry that I'm a spy for my father."

It would be difficult to shake the feeling of the landlord's son watching over one's every move.

The music gently faded behind them, replaced by faint rustling of leaves in the summer breeze, the soft sound of their footsteps.

"I'm quite excited," Thor murmured.

"Yes," Loki said. "So am I."

They'd been building to this. He'd almost promised. Even now, he had oil ready and waiting in his room, cloth to protect the bed a little, a fluttering in his stomach that it was tonight.

They climbed the stairs in perfect step - a good omen perhaps - walking quietly into the foyer. It had to be rather late, after all.

"Mr Laufeyson," Heimdall said from the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. "Sir Odin would like to see you urgently."

Loki's heart dropped. What about? Did he know? Had he realised the extent of what was happening between him and Thor?

"Of course," he said, forcing his voice to be steady and paying attention to his breathing. "Which room?"

"The parlour."

"Alright. Good evening, Thor. Thank you for inviting me."

Thor's face showed all the concern and trepidation that Loki felt, his eyes wide and worried.

Loki forced a smile and turned to knock at the suddenly imposing wooden door.


	33. Events

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Odin looked a mess. He looked exhausted, stressed. His normally neat hair was somewhat ruffled, like he'd been running his hands through it. And his look was full of wariness.

"Did you talk to my wife?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse.

That had not been the question Loki had expected.

"I've spoken to her many times, sir. What is this about?"

"I asked you specifically not to tell her about what we discussed. About the risk to Hela."

"And I did not."

"Then why has she come home tonight frightened almost out of her wits? Who put those thoughts in her head?"

"Thoughts of what?"

"Surtur Brandt!"

Loki blinked at him in utter confusion. That name was distantly familiar though. Hadn't there been... Hadn't there been a writer? Years ago, though. Maybe he'd heard of a performance at some point.

"The playwright?" he said, perhaps finally putting two and two together. "That's who wants to marry Hela?"

"He wants to take her from me. The way he sees it, I stole his love so he'll steal my daughter. But you admit it. You put the thought of him in her head."

Loki held up his hands, trying to calm the situation.

"We talked briefly about her past, but she did not mention that name. Hela had mentioned her having an artistic background but I had no idea it would involve such unpleasant memories. As for this evening... I think perhaps she saw someone there tonight."

"Did you see him?"

"No. Or... maybe. I don't know. I don't know what he looks like."

"So he might not have been there. She might have just imagined it."

That was clearly what he wanted to believe but Loki could not in all good conscience let it go.

"With respect, sir," he said. "I don't think she did. I asked one of the villagers if there had been strangers and one described a man with greying red hair and striking eyebrows. Does that sound at all...?"

Odin leapt to his feet, pacing, his eye moving back and forth constantly and Loki suddenly saw the soldier before him, the tactician, working out the best defence plan.

"I always feared this day might come," he said. "I had hoped to avoid it, but... Right. I'll inform Hela immediately that she is no longer permitted to leave the house without a chaperone."

"Are you going to explain why? I'm not sure she'll accept such a rule suddenly."

He wasn't convinced Odin was even listening. He'd entered full preparation and planning, already muttering about keeping every door and window locked, keeping the female staff chaperoned too just in case...

"Is he truly so dangerous?" Loki asked.

That seemed to get through to him at last. It was like he had remembered someone else was in the room with him.

"His words have certainly... escalated over the past year. I tried to consider them empty threats, didn't reply and tried to move things along to have Hela safely wed. But if he is here... Thank you, Mr Laufeyson. I'll bid you good night."

Dismissed. Loki still didn't think he'd manage to put his daughter under house arrest without a fight, without a reason. Would she even listen to reason? Or would she just scoff and insist she could look after herself?

And if Frigga hadn't read the letters, why was she so scared? Had Surtur... done something to her?

He climbed the stairs full of trepidation, worried about the danger potentially waiting out in the darkness.

It was a surprise to find Thor in his room, sitting awkwardly on his bed, the lamp lit beside him, its pale yellow light filling the room.

"Oh," Loki said. "I thought maybe you'd have..."

"What's happening?" Thor asked. "Does he know? About us?"

"Uh... Uh, no, I don't think so. He wanted to ask me about your mother... feeling unwell."

He didn't like lying to Thor. Not now, not when he was trying to be a good thing in his life, but it really wasn't his place...

"You should talk to your father about it," he said. "Not about us but about... Look, something is happening and I don't have all the information. It's private, it's a family matter."

"You practically are family."

Loki scoffed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I'm really not."

"You are," Thor said, getting up and placing his hands on Loki's shoulders. "You know so much about us, you understand us so well. And I care about you, very much."

Oh, dear.

"Thor, no, you can't be in love with me. You can't."

"I never said I was. I think I could be, in time, but... But I know that's probably not what you want."

"It's not about what I want, it's about what's realistic. I can't live here long term so we should have fun while it lasts and separate with only happy memories. No broken hearts."

Thor gazed at him for a moment, his eyes seeming very steady, very calm. Like he was considering something carefully.

"I wouldn't mind a broken heart if it meant I'd been in love," he said carefully. "I think it would be worth it."

Loki sighed, wondering how they could possibly be the same age when Thor was so very naive. He shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"Maybe our big plans for tonight should be put off till tomorrow," Thor said. "But I could still try to make you feel better, if you want."

He did want. He wanted a lot.

"I'm sorry," he said, flopping onto his bed and Thor crawling on beside him, wrapping an arm around him. "You were so excited about this."

"I still am. But I can wait. It's fine. It's not the right time."

He was very understanding. Loki ended up rolling on top of him, just being held, taking his face in both hands for soft kisses.

Even if they didn't do anything new tonight, they could still find satisfaction. He started rolling his hips against Thor's, just a little, hearing the little hum of pleasure from Thor's throat, taking his mind away from worries temporarily.

Until he heard the distinct sound of the door clicking open.


	34. More Truths

"I knew it," Hela hissed. "I bloody knew it."

Loki rolled off Thor immediately, standing up, heart hammering in his chest.

"It's not what you think," he said, as if he could really pretend that.

She gave him an incredulous look, closing the door.

"I honestly don't care," she said. "I'm only here for information that I believe you have, so if you don't want your little secret spread to our parents, I suppose you'd better tell me why exactly my father has decided I suddenly can't be trusted to take care of myself."

It was a choice now. And both were bad ideas, but he had to take care of one thing and it was a choice between himself and his future, his career, which he risked losing if he told her the truth against Odin's wishes, and leaving Thor at the mercy of his parents' wroth if Hela told them he'd been intimate with another man and so his choice was obvious.

"It's because of Surtur Brandt."

Hela blinked at him and he could feel Thor's confusion too even as he was trying to hide under the blanket for a degree of dignity.

"What does he have to do with anything?" she asked.

Loki sighed, knowing he was the wrong person to tell her this, but also aware that he had to. For Thor's sake. And for her sake too, really. She ought to know.

"As I understand it, he has some kind of... fixation with you," he said. "He loved Frigga and never forgave her for marrying someone else and so he... He has decided he will marry you instead regardless of your feelings or your father's. Odin believes he's a dangerous man. That's what all this was in aid of, the portrait, everything - he was trying to have you married as protection. And now Brandt has been seen in the village. You are not safe."

"That makes no sense," Thor said. "She's not Mother's blood daughter. They don't even look alike."

"It's not really about me," Hela said, acid in her voice. "Don't you understand? It's not about me or Frigga, it's about Father. Surtur thought of Frigga as his, belonging to him, and so he wants to punish the man who took her by taking his daughter. It doesn't matter who I am. It matters what I am."

She sat down in the chair in front of Loki's mirror, seeming genuinely stunned.

"He can't make you get married though," Thor said, still clinging to a world of order and morals.

"I wouldn't be the first," Hela said softly. "He tried to do much the same to Frigga after all."

Loki's stomach lurched horribly.

"What?" Thor stammered. "No, that's... That's not true."

Hela looked up at him, a little bleary-eyed, more vulnerable than she'd ever seen her before.

"She told me about it when I went to school," she said. "Trying to warn me about the world, how even someone you think is your friend can be dangerous. I thought she was just being patronising at first but... But then she told me about him, about how when she wrote and told him she was engaged he turned up at her door, drunk and raving, shouting at her, saying he'd make her his bride no matter what and how if Heimdall hadn't been there..."

She tailed off, but the implication was there, hanging in the air like a carcass. No wonder Frigga had been so terrified. But Thor was still shaking his head, refusing to take it in.

"No," he said. "No, she would have told me. And why is the scoundrel still out there? Why hasn't he been locked up?"

A shrug. She didn't know. There had to be something. Perhaps he'd been away for a while. Perhaps he had been locked up and was recently released, ready to chase down those he felt had wronged him.

Someone had to take charge.

"It's been a stressful night," Loki said. "I think perhaps we should all go to bed and plan in the morning. Hela, we will keep you safe and I'm sure your father will manage to do something about this."

"He'll still want to get me married off."

Loki managed to hold back the groan.

"Would that really be so bad? For safety?"

"I don't want to be treated as a possession. Brandt wants me because Father owns me and so the solution is for someone else to own me? Why isn't it enough that I own myself?"

All very good questions and Loki wished he had answers for them.

"Maybe once the danger is passed, your father will reconsider," he said. "But for now... let's all just try to get some rest."

"And please don't tell anyone about... this," Thor said, gesturing vaguely between himself and Loki.

"Oh, don't worry," Hela said. "I'm not going to let go of such leverage in a hurry."

And to think this night was supposed to be all about good new experiences...


	35. Unease

Frigga was indisposed for the next few days. The whole house had the air of a siege, of carefully locked doors and concern at any unexpected noise. Loki was suddenly much more aware of maids as they began only traversing the house in groups of two or more.

On occasion, he saw Hela and Thor from the window of his studio, taking Fenrir for walks near to the house. For all she denied it, he wouldn't be surprised if Hela was afraid. It was one thing for a threat to be vaguely present and quite another for it to be so close by.

He tried to keep painting. Tried to keep things as normal as possible.

He missed Thor, if he was honest. He seemed to be doing a kind of patrolling most days, looking out for this intruder, though quite what he thought he'd do if they met, Loki wasn't sure. Fight him, presumably. Attempt to defend his home and family.

Loki was a little concerned that he might get hurt. Maybe more than a little. Maybe really quite worried indeed about that risk. Thor was too... honourable perhaps, too principled, to the point Loki thought he might be surprised if someone fought dirty.

Did he even have a proper plan? Was he going to hope a stern talking to would work?

He heard the creak of a footstep outside the studio room, his heart unsure whether to leap or drop before Heimdall entered the room with a tray of tea. Two cups.

"My lady wonders if you would find her company troublesome today," he said softly.

"Not at all," Loki said. "She wouldn't disturb me in the least."

He carefully poured the tea before she arrived, smiling as she entered the room.

Her hair was tied in a loose braid, as though for sleep, a simple day dress and shawl. And she looked exhausted. He had an embroidery hoop held loosely in her hand, a small bag looped around her wrist. The tools of her craft.

"Good afternoon," Loki said, trying to pitch his voice well, trying to sound normal but peaceful too.

She smiled at him and shuffled onto the chaise, sitting down upon it.

"I find myself desirous of quiet company," she said. "I hope you don't mind."

"You're most welcome."

It was nice, just existing in each other's company, the soft sounds of painting and stitching and breathing, so quiet as to be almost silent but without the crushing sensation of emptiness. It suited Loki well not to talk. Frigga's presence had no awkwardness.

It was an easy way to help her, perhaps. Just physically being there.

They each made progress at their own pace, stitch after stitch, stroke after stroke.

Eventually, Heimdall brought them a fresh pot of tea.

"What time is it?" Frigga asked.

"A little after four o'clock, my lady."

"Oh. Oh, I should... dress for dinner. Excuse me."

Loki watched her go, hoping she'd managed to find at least a little peace. Heimdall sighed lightly and poured himself a cup. He clearly needed it.

"How long have you worked for her?" Loki asked, mindful of what Hela had mentioned about their past.

"Nearly thirty years. I was her first butler and at this rate, I'll be her last."

That was a long, long time to spend with someone.

"She's very shaken up," Loki said softly.

"Yes. She went through something very traumatic. Even after all this time and happiness, it can be hard to be free from such memories when they come rushing back unexpectedly."

Part of Loki wanted to ask more, wanted to hear details, but he knew it was a private matter and bit his tongue.

"She seems calmer after spending time with you though," Heimdall said. "She trusts you."

Thinking of all the secrets he was keeping and all the lies and the clandestine relationship he had with her son, Loki forced a smile as he wiped paint off his hands.

"Well," he said. "I'll try to be worthy of such trust."

Later, after he'd eaten dinner in his room and was trying to read a little, his eyes scanning the page but hardly taking anything in, a firm knock sounded at his door.

Thor?

Loki's smile fell a little when he found Hela on the other side, pulling on some gloves, Fenrir circling round her excitedly.

"Would you mind terribly accompanying me on a walk?" she asked, all faux politeness. "Fenrir is terribly restless. I think he needs to burn off some energy."

He had no reason not to, putting on some shoes and a coat.

Somehow he thought Hela's company might give the evening air something of a chill.


	36. Walk

"So what will you do if we meet Surtur Brandt?" Hela asked as Fenrir padded happily down the path in front of them.

"I was rather hoping you'd set the dog on him."

"And risk my puppy getting hurt?"

"Oh, but it's alright if I get hurt?"

"You have more rights than a dog. The crime is much more likely to be successfully prosecuted."

"Well, I'm glad I'll be maimed for a good cause at least."

She laughed. Amused wasn't the most common of emotions on her and Loki felt a little bloom of pride that he'd managed to provoke it.

There were worse ways to spend an evening than walking in the company of an intelligent lady, even if he was trying to maintain vigilance for anything unusual, anyone hiding nearby.

"Do you love my brother?"

Loki almost tripped over his own feet.

"What?"

"I'm just curious what exactly your feelings are. Is it purely lust or is there more to it?"

Loki hesitated. That was a big question, a lot to think about.

"Thor is... a very kind man. He has a zest for life and a pure joy to him which I find very pleasant to be around. And, yes, I find him very attractive. But..."

"But?"

"But, well, it's hardly sustainable, is it? Once the commissions are finished, I'll leave. I can't allow our emotions to grow too strong."

"But you think if you could then you would love him?"

"Maybe. I can't predict my own heart. Why do you ask?"

"He talks about you a lot outside of Mother and Father's earshot. He's clearly very taken with you. I might not be the warmest sister in the world, but I don't find him completely intolerable. I don't want him to get hurt."

"So you're asking me what my intentions are?"

"I suppose so, yes."

Well, this wasn't awkward at all...

"I truly care about Thor and I have no desire to break his heart. That's why I'm trying to keep feelings out of this as much as possible."

She didn't say anything for a little while, walking in silence. She was clearly thinking.

"So if Thor were in love with you, what then?" she asked.

It was a risk, Loki knew. And he wanted to show Thor how wonderful a caring affair could be which meant the danger was heightened even further; he wouldn't blame Thor if he developed... an affection for him.

"It would be unfortunate," Loki said. "But I believe he understands why it is impossible."

"And are you his first?"

"That's a private matter. It's his business, not mine."

"Hmm. That's a no."

It was, but Loki wasn't about to confirm it either way. It was not for him to air Thor's dirty laundry. Especially not when he suspected that he was the first who had ever cared about Thor's pleasure.

"Is that a figure by the gate?"

Loki froze immediately, tense, unsure whether his instinct was to fight or run.

"Where? I don't see anything."

Hela whistled, bringing Fenrir bounding back to them.

"Just testing," she said. "Just wanted to see what you would do."

She turned, heading back towards the house, leaving Loki watching the horizon carefully before joining her.

"That's not funny," he said.

"It wasn't meant to be. You were instantly alert and preparing to either defend my honour or get help. The point is that you didn't freeze. Some people do. It's natural."

Loki tried to be empathetic.

"Are you... scared?" he asked.

She genuinely seemed to consider it.

"It's more like I'm concerned," she said eventually. "There is a man out there who has returned to this country with an express drive to attack me and my family."

"Returned? What do you mean, returned?"

"After he attacked Frigga, Father pressed charges. As her fiancé, he was able to do that. Surtur was transported. Australia, I think. He had to work off his sentence and earn enough to travel back. I would say it's difficult not to be at least a little afraid of such a single-minded person."

Transported to the colonies... That explained why he had been gone for so long. Why Frigga had thought she was safe.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"I made Father tell me all about it. He's very stressed. Having me bothering him wasn't helping and in the end he decided a quiet life was easier."

Somehow Loki could quite imagine her managing to bully her father into doing what she wanted. Even Odin must have his limits.

"Overall, though, I'm surprisingly calm," she said. "I'm trying my best to have control over this. I have ardent defenders, I have my hound and, if it came to it, I'm confident that I could kill a man."

She said it so casually that Loki couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, well..." he said. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Don't worry," she said. "It won't. Probably."


	37. Questions

"I've been neglecting you."

Loki scoffed, mixing up yet another shade of green. It was all in the layers, building them up to make the best likeness possible.

"You've been busy," he said. "It's understandable."

"I just hope you know I'm thinking about you. All the time."

It wasn't fair that his heart leapt so hearing that. Loki tried his best to stamp it down. It wasn't fair to either of them to get attached when this would have to end.

Ever since his evening walk with Hela, he'd been interrogating his own feelings, trying to identify any sign that he was having an excess of... of anything.

And maybe he was beginning to be worried that it wasn't quite true that he was completely unaffected.

Which was ridiculous. They had known each other a matter of months. That was not enough time to develop real feelings, surely. Anything he was feeling was merely the temporary pleasure of having an enthusiastic partner. He'd been here before. More than once.

"Don't worry," he said. "My passion won't cool so easily."

"I'm just afraid of wasting too much time. I wish you could stay forever. Mother and Father like you, after all. They trust you."

Loki wished he didn't like them too. Wished he didn't know he'd be thinking of them, all of them, for the rest of his life. He'd write, of course, and hear all about Thor's life just... without him being there.

"Would you stay?" Thor asked. "If you could, I mean."

"How could I? I need to earn money. I need to paint."

"We could be your patrons. Then you could stay and paint whatever you wanted."

The willow leaves were like emeralds under his hand, strings of diamond shapes as he imagined it. No more commissions. Being able to paint for its own sake and sell his work on his own terms.

And of course, he'd be able to pursue a real relationship with Thor. When he was master of the house, with Hela not minding, perhaps they could even be somewhat... open.

"It's a lovely dream, Thor," he said. "But I doubt it could happen."

"But would you? If we could? If I managed to convince my father or something?"

Would he?

"Yes, I suppose so."

Thor laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling him round, kissing him softly, his hands so big and warm on his neck.

Loki tried not to let himself hope. Tried not to imagine a world where Odin would agree to pay for his upkeep, would let him take over this room as a permanent studio. A world where he wasn't just a summer's romance for Thor but a proper lover. A partner even.

It was difficult to resist, leaving him distracted and melancholy all afternoon, rather wanting to be left alone.

No such luck. Hela knocked on his door again, seeming agitated and restless. Maybe a long walk would do him good. Some fresh air.

She wasn't talkative this evening. Even for her, she seemed... distant somehow. Not that Loki was doing much better. He was miles away, bitter over dreams that could never happen.

He should have seen it coming, really. And yet, when he heard hoofbeats behind them, he was still surprised. A carriage? And Thor driving it?

"Get in," Hela said.

"What?"

"Get in the carriage now."

Completely baffled, he climbed in, Fenrir leaping in after him and Hela pulling the door shut behind her.

"What's happening?" he asked as Thor set off once more, clicking his tongue at the horses.

"I worked out a simple way to solve all our problems," Hela said, rubbing Fenrir's ears. "Or at least most of them."

"Really? How? Where are we going?"

"Gretna Green."

Loki stared at her, wondering when he was going to wake up.


	38. Trap

"No," Loki said. "Eloping? No, you can't be serious."

"Why not? I need to be married. You love my brother, or something close to it. This way the two of you get to be together and I get to keep my independence. It's perfect."

"But... But your father..."

"What about him? He's desperate for me to get a husband and I'm getting one."

Suddenly that conversation Thor had had with him earlier made a lot of sense. He'd been asking if he wanted to stay, waiting for that yes, waiting to put this scheme into action.

"You planned this," Loki said. "The two of you."

"Indeed. We really ought to team up more often. It turns out we're rather good at it. He packed the bags, snuck them out and into the carriage while we were walking. It will be hours before they realise we're gone."

Folding his arms, Loki tried desperately to keep his rising panic under control.

"And what if I say no? What if I refuse?"

"Why would you? You're about to have everything you could possibly desire. Money, security, love..."

"But I don't love him," Loki hissed.

"You told me yourself that you were holding back because you knew it couldn't last. Well, now it can. You should be thanking me for facilitating your relationship really."

"But what about... the future? What about inheritance? I assume your marriage scheme doesn't feature consummation or children."

"That's for you and Thor to work out. Or maybe I'll find a man I wouldn't mind spending a short amount of time with and I'm sure you wouldn't mind raising my child with me."

It all seemed so easy to them. It was ridiculous.

"So your plan is that the three of us live together?"

"Why not? You're an intelligent man and not entirely poor company. You'll be an asset to the estate. Besides, our parents seem to like you. I'm sure they'll come around."

He was trapped. There was no way out. If he refused, she could tell their parents exactly what his relationship was Thor was and make him destitute.

"Anyway," Hela said, rolling up her shawl as a pillow. "I need to get some sleep. I'll be taking over the driving at some point in the night."

Loki sat and stewed for a while. And then he dragged his suitcase out from under the carriage bench to see what Thor had packed for him.

Pretty much all his clothes. The bottle of oil, neatly wrapped in paper - highly presumptive. The book he'd been reading, his marker neatly in place.

He got that out and tried to read, really just trying to work out how to deal with all of this.

In many ways, it felt like just another example of rich people getting what they wanted, owning people. Thor wanted him, wanted to keep him, and he'd found a way to achieve that and he hadn't even _asked,_ not really. He definitely hadn't asked if he wanted to marry his sister...

Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen into a grumpy doze, waking up when the carriage came to a halt, finding himself in darkness, a lantern swinging into view by the window with Thor's face behind it.

"Ready to take over?" he whispered.

"Mm..."

Hela rubbed her eyes, undoing the door and stepping out, Fenrir's leg twitching in his sleep.

Loki sat up, folding his arms as Thor slipped in beside him, carefully putting his book to one side.

He turned away when Thor tried to kiss him.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Really? You're forcing me into marriage and you want to know what's wrong?"

"I... But I asked if you'd stay if you could and you said yes."

"That's not remotely the same thing!"

"But... But I love you. I want to be with you and this way we can keep Hela safe and you and I can be together."

"You don't love me. You don't even know what that feels like."

"I know that I care about you. I know that I want to protect you and make you happy."

"No, you want to own me. You want to possess me."

"That's not true."

He didn't even see. He didn't understand. That was perhaps the worst thing.

"I'm going back to sleep," Loki said. "And apparently you should too."

Maybe in the morning, he'd understand better.


	39. Discussion

"Loki. Wake up."

His body ached from the unusual sleeping position, surprised to find himself under a coat that wasn't his own.

"What...? Ugh..."

"You looked cold in the night," Thor said.

As if he'd be forgiven so easily. Loki didn't say anything, just handed it back to him and opened the carriage door, letting Fenrir bound out into pale morning sunshine.

"Right," Hela said as they got out, handing over the reigns to a scrawny stableboy, visibly exhausted from her night of driving. "Let's get this over with. You two go and get us some lodgings, I'll find the blacksmith."

"The blacksmith?" Thor asked.

"Why do you think we had to come to Scotland, Thor? Any citizen can preside over a wedding here. No priest, no waiting, no awkward questions. The smiths here are practically part-time vicars. I'll meet you in a little while."

Loki followed Thor, unsure what he was feeling. Sickness, mostly. Anxiety. Anger. It was all mixed together in a horrible potion of dread.

He had little choice. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

It was a pretty little town. He could say that at least. Small though, very small. A place to stop for the night on the way north or south, to get your horses reshod and therefore the first place couples seeking an irregular marriage came across when they crossed the border from England.

The inn wasn't difficult to find. Thor strode in, all confidence and friendliness, as though everyone in the world was just someone nice he hadn't met yet. No wonder he'd been so easy to take advantage of.

You'd think with a sister like Hela, he'd be more cautious.

"I'd like to take two rooms, please," he said. "Three people."

"Of course, sir. Let me take up your bags. You're here to be wed?"

"No, my friend here is to marry my sister."

"Ah. Congratulations."

"Mm," Loki said. Barely a grunt.

He waited until they were left alone, flopping down on the bed to stretch his back, face in the pillow. He almost flinched away when Thor stroked his hair.

"Are you dreadfully angry with me?"

It was the lack of understanding that he didn't like, that he couldn't stand. He turned his head to the side, huffing angrily.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am. You didn't ask me. You just assumed, you... You trapped me. I'm caught between marriage and exposure, between restraint and destitution."

"But you'll choose marriage, surely."

"Of course, but can't you see that I should never have been forced into such a decision? You should have asked first."

Thor was frowning, hesitating slightly before reaching for him again, running fingers through his hair.

"But we can be together," he murmured. "Almost freely. Your room will be by mine and I can suck your cock every night, I'll be at your beck and call always. Anything you want."

A dark part of Loki almost stirred at that, almost thought of revenge. He knew how to be cruel after all, could show Thor exactly that... But he pushed it back. He had better ways to make his point.

"Do you realise why you didn't ask me?" he asked.

"Hela said we shouldn't in case you accidentally let it slip."

Oh, he truly was so naive...

"She knew I would say no," Loki said. "She wanted to make sure I had no chance to resist."

Maybe he was getting through. Maybe Thor was beginning to understand.

"What should I do to please you?" he asked. "To apologise?"

"I don't know."

He sat up, irritably trying to tie his hair back, pushing away any attempt at help.

"You know, I... I thought perhaps the wedding night could be our night," Thor said shyly.

"You thought you'd come to me as a blushing bride, is that it?"

"I just want to be yours, completely! I want to give myself to you, utterly, have you touch me as no one else has. So very well, call me your bride if you want. I'll put on garters if it pleases you, just... Please, don't be so furious with me. I understand that I have wronged you and I am sorry."

"But you're not. You get what you want. You get to keep me, no matter what I might say about it. You can say you're sorry, but you're not. You're only thinking of yourself, your own desires."

"I am thinking of you! I am thinking of how I can give you wealth and security and love. No more disrespectful portrait subjects, no more underpaid commissions. Freedom. Happiness. And I... I thought you wanted me too. When you kiss me, I feel so much. And I think you feel too."

Loki scoffed, folding his arms as Thor sat down beside him.

"Tell me you feel nothing," Thor murmured. "Not even the smallest amount?"

"I feel nothing. It's bodily pleasure, nothing more."

Thor sighed gently.

"I don't believe you. I think you do care. Even though you try not to."

There was a knock at the door, a reprieve finally, Hela waiting on the other side.

"I found the smith," she said. "But I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep for a few hours and then I think we need to find a second witness."

Thor nodded, somewhat grim.

"Sleep well," he said.

He closed the door and locked it, turning back to Loki.

"Do you hate me?" he asked.

Loki sighed. That was much too strong.

"I'm angry with you," he said.

Crossing the floor in three strides, Thor knelt before him, running his hands up Loki's legs.

"At least I could..."

"What?"

Those blue eyes bored into his, so miserable.

"I could take your mind off it, just for a moment or two. Be as rough as you want. I deserve it. I can take it. And since it's nothing more than bodies..."

Despite himself, Loki felt his cock stir. Those lips, so pink, so tempting...

He pushed Thor back but began undoing his trousers anyway. Despite his better judgement.

He was going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The various laws that made Gretna Green an eloping hotspot are too complicated for me to summarize neatly (different ages where parental consent was required! Different rules on what constituted a wedding! Many more things!) but it's interesting to read about - especially the cases of young heiresses being abducted and tricked into marriage which was apparently a real problem.
> 
> Depending on which year we were in, you also had to be resident in Scotland for 21 days before getting married so let's just pretend we're before then, OK? Historical ambiguity!


	40. Bad Choices

Thor was a fast learner. He was using every new trick Loki had shown him in their time together. No more rushed, rough bobbing of his head. Now he took his time, stroking Loki's cock gently, coaxing it to full hardness, darting out his tongue to lap up the first hint of liquid at the tip.

Loki sighed and tried to appear unaffected, tried to _be_ unaffected. But one lick became two became three became a soft sucking of the head. Those blue eyes gazing up at him, begging for forgiveness.

It was so tempting to give it and yet Loki knew he couldn't. Instead, he ran his hand over Thor's head, undoing his hair tie, letting those golden waves fall free.

Thor sucked a little harder. Waiting for a word, for a soft sigh, for a hint that he hadn't ruined everything perhaps.

And then he moved back, almost watery eyed, looking almost hurt.

"If you can't find any sweetness," he said. "Then please be cruel. I can take you in my throat even, anything but this nothingness."

And Loki hesitated just a moment too long to deny.

"Were your school friends cruel?" he asked.

Thor sighed, looking away, embarrassed.

"Yes," he said. "They called me... They called me names. They never even tried to give me pleasure, they used my body for what they wanted and left me to stroke myself to memories of their moans. And I worked hard to please them all the more. I think I... Part of me almost liked being treated that way. Out of control. I don't know. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself. Trying to pretend I wanted it."

"Do you think you still want that? Even now?"

A look of pure shame.

"I don't know. I love the way you treat me. I love the tenderness, the gentleness, the way you touch me and always leave me satisfied. You've shown me how different it can be. But... maybe sometimes I wish you'd be a little rougher perhaps. Just to see how it feels."

Despite himself, Loki chuckled.

"You can't handle rough," he said.

"I can," Thor said. "In some areas."

Loki wished that wasn't intriguing. He wished he didn't want to know which areas exactly.

"What do you want?" he asked instead. Inviting him to choose.

Thor's nostrils flared. He was clearly embarrassed to ask, having to take a deep, steadying breath.

"Pull my hair?"

Loki very carefully laced his fingers into soft, shining tresses and then gripped, hearing Thor's breath hitch, completely surrendering to him, biting his lip.

"Good?"

"Yes..."

He was clearly desperate to get back to it and Loki held him in place for a little while before thrusting into his mouth.

No choking. Loki had never liked that. But he was a little firmer in his actions, a little less careful. He watched Thor's eyes almost glaze in pleasure, gazing up at him, and felt himself melt just a little too much.

"Get up," he said. "Come here. I want to be comfortable."

He gave a light tug, pulling Thor onto the bed, lying back upon its thin mattress.

"Impress me," he said. "Go on."

Thor knelt over him, the small space not the easiest for two tall men, but admirably determined. He moaned when Loki gripped his hair again, a pretence at control.

Despite himself, despite his anger, it didn't take too long. His mood was no match for warmth and tightness, even reaching for Thor afterwards to stroke his scalp, trying to soothe him.

"Was that what you wanted?"

"It feels better when you do it."

Yes, because he cared and he was careful.

He reached for the bulge in Thor's trousers, rubbing over the outside and then starting to undo them.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

"No. But I pride myself on satisfied partners."

He made Thor spill easily, wiping his hand against the sheet, feeling a little guilty for whoever would have to clean it and awkwardly tidying himself up.

"I suppose not many men get such treatment before their wedding," he sighed.

He was rather resigned to the whole thing by the time Hela knocked on the door again. No choice. No point being upset about it.

"We still need another witness," she said. "But I'm sure they're used to that here and have someone who can help. Come on."

The wind had picked up, their hair whipping around, Hela striding confidently along the streets towards a squat building. Whitewashed stone. Simple and practical.

"Ready?" she asked, standing before the door.

"Better to get it over with," Loki said.

He stepped into the smoky calm of the forge with an ache in his heart. Walking into a cage.


	41. Iron

The blacksmith's son was duly produced to act as their second witness, looking like he'd done this so many times despite looking barely old enough. Next to his hulking father, all broad shoulders and understated strength, an apron stained with soot and grease, he looked very diminutive indeed.

"Please join hands over the anvil," the smith said.

Loki wiped his suddenly sweaty palm on his trousers and obediently held it out to Hela. He was almost expecting a sting or a shock as her fingers brushed his.

"Can you confirm that you are both single and of age to be married?"

"Yes," Hela said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," Loki said, feeling almost like he was watching this happen to someone else.

"And do you consent to be married?"

He could feel Thor's eyes on him. The worry, the fear.

"Yes," he heard himself say.

A blow of the hammer onto the anvil, money handed over and signatures on a piece of paper. And that was it. Married. Very simple.

To Loki's surprise, he didn't feel any different. Such a monumental thing, such a change in his life and yet he felt almost nothing.

Or maybe it would strike him later.

"Can we buy a ring here?" Hela asked.

"I'm afraid not. I'm only an ironmonger."

"Hmm. Shame. I suppose we can find one later. Thank you very much."

The blacksmith's whole family seemed faintly surprised that she was clearly the one pushing for this. Presumably that wasn't the usual. Loki could only shrug and follow her back outside.

Thor wrapped an arm around his shoulders, blocking the wind a little. He tried not to be comforted by it.

"Thank you," he said softly. "And I promise to do my very best to make you happy."

Mm. It wasn't that Loki doubted that, it was more that he was afraid of a million other possibilities. What would Odin and Frigga think, first of all. He was not the right kind of man for their daughter. He had no money, no house, earned a moderate living but not enough to support a wife of Hela's standing.

Which, of course, meant they'd stay put on the estate. With Thor. And that was all very well for now, but what if the novelty wore off? What if they drifted, grew apart?

He was going to be trapped with a wife who didn't much care what he did and a brother-in-law who essentially considered them to be the married ones.

This might need negotiation. With the pressure to have an heir, would Thor have a wife eventually? Would he have any say in that, on who he chose? And would she know of their true relationship? These were important questions and he wasn't sure how much thought Thor had given to them.

Were they going to be monogamous with one another? He hadn't promised to "forsake all others" after all. But on the other hand, he could feel in his heart that he might be jealous if Thor had other lovers. He wouldn't like to see Thor with others, to know they were experiencing such things together. Therefore, he would have to remain faithful too.

He tried to examine his feelings about that. Never to meet a new lover ever again. Never again to know that strange dance, trying to read glances and work out whether they meant what he thought.

Well... Would he miss it, really? The stress, the risks? He might miss the fun, the thrill of it, but maybe there was something to be said for the comfort and resilience of something longer term.

That was something he had never really thought to have. He'd never allowed himself to want it, aware that it was impossible. And now it was potentially within his grasp and he didn't know how he felt about that.

He needed some time to think...

"I need to take a walk," he said, shaking off Thor's arm.

"Where?"

"I don't know. I just... I need to be alone for a while. I'll be back soon."

Thor's worried face made his heart ache, but he really did need space to breathe, he needed to get some air.

It took him no time at all to walk to the edge of the village and out into the open countryside. He found himself wishing he was by the coast, somewhere he could gaze out at water, striking out on a fruitless search for a lake.

Every step was technically taking him further away from England than he'd ever been. He'd almost had a commission near Edinburgh once, but nothing had ever come of it. In a lot of ways, he was experiencing something entirely new, a new place, a new marital state and yet he could hardly tell. For all he knew, he'd gone the other way and recrossed the border. It wasn't like the landscape suddenly changed.

He found a large boulder, sitting upon it for a moment, letting the wind rush around us.

A moment's peace did him good. He felt almost serene, somehow, out among nature. All his problems - or potential problems - were back on the estate; Odin, Frigga, Surtur, the future. And so the only way to face them was to go back.

Thor, on the other hand, was a little more immediate.

In a lot of ways, all of this was an extension of his naivety. He hadn't forseen any issues. He'd assumed Loki would be delighted by his idea, that he'd come round right away. The anger that even now bubbled within him had come as a surprise.

And their last encounter before the wedding was playing on his mind now. Had Thor truly wanted that or had he been giving Loki what he thought he wanted?

On the journey home, they ought to have a proper conversation.

His light summer coat hadn't been the best thing to wear in such a strong breeze, grateful to step back into the little inn and find a fire crackling in the main room.

Thor was sitting in a threadbare armchair beside it, leaping to his feet when Loki entered.

"I... I thought maybe you'd... gone."

That hadn't even entered his head. Where would he even have gone with just the clothes on his back?

"Of course not," he said. "I have to finish the paintings."


	42. A Chat

Hela had gone back to bed and Loki couldn't deny thinking that was a good idea. It had been a long and stressful bunch of hours.

Maybe a day ago, the idea of sharing a bed with Thor would have had more appeal than it did at present, not least since the mattress they were cramming onto was distinctly smaller than what he'd become used to of late.

They started off lying with a distinct gap between them but when Loki woke up to his stomach rumbling, Thor had rolled into him, an arm across his body.

He wished he didn't like it, wished he didn't want to snuggle in, rolling over to dislodge him, getting a confused grunt.

"I'm starving," he murmured. "Do you think we can get some food round here?"

They could, a sort of meat and potato stew. Even Fenrir happily tucked in, though perhaps he wasn't the best judge of gastronomy in the world.

"We should set out after this," Hela said. "Get back. I'll drive. Frigga and Father are probably worried."

Of course they hadn't told them. At least with both children and their portrait painter missing with suitcases, they were unlikely to assume it was an abduction.

The last thing he needed was being accused of that on top of all the rest of it.

He didn't even say goodbye to the innkeepers, dragging his bag down the stairs and out to where Thor was checking the horses, hitching them to the carriage.

"Why did you pack me so much?"

Thor looked over, a little surprised.

"I wasn't sure how long it would take. Hela said maybe a few days, but I wasn't sure."

Hmm. That made sense. But it was another sign of Thor's spontaneity, his rashness. He'd just packed everything without really thinking about it.

They really needed to talk, settling into the back of the carriage with Fenrir sitting on the other bench, but Loki wasn't totally sure where to begin.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked, more thinking aloud than anything else.

"Go home. Tell my parents. And then... Then you need to move in properly and..."

"I don't mean that. What are we to each other now? Are we... committed to one another or are you going to have a wife or other lovers or...?"

"Would you be jealous? Or would you want that? It's up to you."

Why couldn't he see? Why didn't he understand? Everything needed to be more level, more equal.

"It's not up to me," Loki said. "It's for us to decide together."

"Well, then we can discuss that when we come to it. Not everything has to be worked out in advance. It's like your paintings - you can always add another layer."

"But we should at least have a sketch though. An outline."

Maybe he was getting through, Thor nodding and taking his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Alright. I care about you. I want you. And I know you think that will change or something, but I'm not so sure. I think I'll care about you forever. Even if you'd left, I think I'd always love you. The first man who ever cared about me in return. But I understand that you're less sure than I am. And that's fine, I can handle that, and if you want to have other lovers then I can handle that too."

"Can you?" Loki challenged. "Can you really? So if I were to come home smelling of someone else, you would handle that?"

"If it made you happy. That's all I really want."

"You don't know that. You can't predict how you'll feel."

"Then why are you asking me to try?"

"Because I have no control right now! You've taken all that away from me. 'A little affair' you said, and now I'm married to your sister and my whole life is going to change, so excuse me if I'm trying to find my balance."

He pulled his hand back, folding his arms.

"It's going to take me some time to recover from this," he said. "And I wish I could be like you and just be happy and carefree, but I can't. I can't."

"I understand."

He didn't, but he was trying. Loki appreciated that, even while he was still angry. And maybe Thor was right, maybe his desire to sort out the future was ridiculous. You couldn't know what would happen.

You just had to hold on and tackle things as they came.

If only it was that simple.


	43. Fears

It was dark. And something was wrong, something was... off.

Loki peeled his cheek off the wall of the carriage, hearing Fenrir whining. Something was going on. Hela had stopped the carriage. Thor was sitting bolt upright, his arm held out like he was poised to fight or flee.

"Hela?" Loki said, unsure whether to shout or whisper.

The carriage lurched horribly into motion, Fenrir barking furiously. Thor caught Loki as he almost feel from the bench.

"What's happening?" he yelled.

No response. Maybe she couldn't hear them.

Thor opened the window on the door, his hair flying around in the wind, looking out into what looked to Loki like total darkness.

"We're nearly home," he said.

"Why is she driving like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe she... saw something. Someone."

"In the dark?"

They were rocked by a bump in the road, Thor trying to calm Fenrir down, petting him, making reassuring noises. Not that it seemed to be working.

Eventually, they crunched to a halt, the horses whinnying and stamping. Thor threw the door open, Fenrir leaping out, his barks echoing into the night.

Someone came running out from the house, Heimdall, Loki realised, surprised to see him wearing pyjamas. Somehow he had almost imagined he never took his suit off.

"Your father is worried sick," he hissed.

"No need," Hela said. "I've fulfilled his wishes and got myself a husband. I'm now Mrs Hela Laufeyson. Spread the word far and wide. I'm married."

She was shaken. Loki could hear it in her voice. She must have seen something that spooked her. She was striding into the house, or hurrying perhaps, Fenrir at her heels, leaving them to sort out stabling the horses.

"Is it true?" Heimdall asked, stroking one and beginning to unhitch them.

"I'm afraid so," Loki said. "Gretna Green. Very quick."

"Her idea, I take it."

"Yes."

"Hm. It is difficult to prevent her getting what she wants."

"It makes sense, though," Thor said, unloading their bags. "This marriage will protect her from Brandt."

If only something could protect Loki from the consequences. He entered the house with Thor at his side to find Odin in a state of apoplexy. His good eye wide and staring, dressed in a quilted dressing gown that flapped as he paced the hall.

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing," he said. "The painter?"

"What can I say, Father?" Hela said, taking off her coat. "I fell madly in love and had to be wed immediately."

"Hela..."

"What? You told me to find a husband and I have done."

"This is not what I meant and you know it."

"Please don't insult my husband so. Anyway I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed. We can discuss the future over breakfast."

She swept her way up the stairs, leaving Loki under Odin's furious gaze.

"I invited you into my home, Mr Laufeyson," he said, quiet and angry. "And this is how you repay me? By seducing my daughter?"

Despite himself, Loki found himself laughing.

"Me?! I've just been swept off my feet to Gretna Green and basically forced into marriage. I'm very sorry if you don't consider me a suitable match for your daughter, but when she wants something, I doubt anything will stop her. My apologies if you hadn't noticed that."

Was that getting through? He wasn't sure, and it was a dangerous route, insulting his emplpyer so. Odin had sort of slumped, looking very tired and old suddenly.

"We should continue this conversation tomorrow," he said. "Perhaps I will have had a chance to calm down by then."

Loki didn't feel particularly tired. He'd been dozing in the carriage, he'd slept in the afternoon. And besides, his whole mind was filled with worry. What had Hela seen that had spooked her so? Was it a present danger? Surely not if she hadn't mentioned it. And yet she'd clearly been frightened.

He wasn't sure how they were meant to tell Surtur that she was married. Or how he would react to that news.

Somehow Loki couldn't imagine that he would simply give up.

He had last left this bedroom a single man, thinking about his emotions towards his lover. Now he was entering it as a married man with all the baggage that came with.

What had Thor said? Something about their rooms being close together. He'd move to the family's wing soon.

Presumably Hela did not intend for them to share. She clearly valued her independence and her own space. That would suit him well. But therefore there was no point in unpacking.

He stripped down to his small clothes, slipping into bed, trying not to worry about the morning.

The knock at his door wasn't totally unexpected and nor was hearing Thor's voice on the other side.

"It's me. Can I come in?"

"Yes."

He'd put on some pyjamas, an effort of propriety, looking decidedly sheepish as he crept in.

"I couldn't sleep. I just keep thinking about what you were saying."

He sat on the end of Loki's bed, being very careful to make sure he wasn't going to sit on him.

"I think I understand what you mean. We've brought you into our world without thinking how that would affect you. Even something as simple as breakfast; you'll be dining with us. And that's a bigger change than I realised."

"It is. I suddenly have a family for one thing. I never expected that."

Thor smiled crookedly at him.

"Well... I like to think that we're not so bad."

Loki couldn't resist returning a smile of his own.

"No, you're not. But I still have to handle your father. He seems to think I've deliberately seduced his child."

"You have a bit. Just not the one he thinks."

"Excuse me! As I recall, it was entirely the other way round, or did I imagine a certain someone leaping into a lake to show himself to his best advantage?"

Almost laughing, Thor blushed a little.

"I just wanted to get your attention," he said. "I was so drawn to you and I desperately wanted to draw you to me too."

"Well, you certainly managed that."

They regarded one another for a few moments, Thor gently stroking Loki's leg under the blankets.

"Do you think you can forgive me?" he asked.

Loki sighed.

"I will. In time. But next time you get a wonderful idea in your head, remember to talk to me about it first."

A nod. Very thoughtful.

"Right now my idea is to kiss you goodnight."

"Mm. Well, I think I could live with that."


	44. Breakfast

At least Loki was dressed when Hela came to his door in the morning, all smiles. Simply thrilled. She was having a wonderful time.

"Our first breakfast as a married couple," she said, taking his arm. "Come on."

Loki hesitated, being half pulled along.

"Must you antagonise your father?" he asked. "He's angry enough as it is."

"Where would be the fun if I didn't?"

He should have seen that coming. And stepping into the dining room was bizarre. Frigga and Odin were already there, waiting. A place had been set for him, Hela practically pushing him into a chair.

It was... awkward more than anything else.

"Where's your brother?" Frigga asked, sipping her tea, Loki practically jumping out of his skin as Heimdall poured him a cup from over his shoulder.

"Still sleeping, probably," Hela said. "How are we going to announce my marriage? I think a nice notice in the village, maybe some bunting. Just to make it clear."

Odin glared at her, seeming more exasperated than anything else. Maybe he really had calmed down during the night.

"You know very well that this is not what I wanted for you," he said.

"Why not? What's so terrible about it? I'm married, you have a tolerable son-in-law, and you won't even have to pay him for the paintings now."

Loki wasn't so sure about that, but he let it slide as she continued, buttering some bread.

"And I get to stay here and keep watch over Thor. Really I think it's all been rather cleverly resolved. I thought you'd be pleased. And besides, I wouldn't be the first one of our family to marry an artist, would I?"

That was a little pointed, perhaps. But Frigga didn't seem concerned. She was carefully cutting an apple into thin slices. Loki wasn't sure what he was allowed to eat or reach for, and he wasn't really hungry anyway.

He drank his tea. Another cup was immediately poured for him. The whole thing made him deeply uneasy.

And then Thor arrived, all bright eyes and smiles.

"Good morning," he chirped. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Don't think you're not in trouble, young man," Odin said. "What on Earth were you thinking? I thought you were more responsible than this."

"Hela wanted to get married quickly. Gretna Green allows that. And we knew if we told you that you wouldn't let us go."

"Of course we wouldn't! It's ridiculous."

"Don't call my husband ridiculous," Hela said, taking Loki's hand.

Odin's look wasn't so much sour as infused with all the limes in all the navy's ships.

"You've had your fun, Hela. But the fact remains that that man is still out there, waiting for us to stop being vigilant. This changes very little."

"But I'm married. He is no threat to me now and he knows it."

"Surtur is a violent man," Frigga said softly. "I fear it might not be so simple, especially as you'll continue living here. Part of the plan was for you to move away, where he couldn't find you."

"Well, I'm not being a prisoner in my own home," Hela said, gesturing with her butter knife. "I saw him last night, sleeping by a fire in the woods. Surely that's trespass. We should bring down the full force of the law."

"The wider estate falls under common use," Odin said. "As long as he isn't causing active harm, we have little recourse."

"I say we take the fight to him," Thor said. "End it now. Chase him off."

"No, Thor. We cannot be the aggressors."

"So we just sit here like ducks and wait for him to strike?"

Loki had sympathy for both sides. If Thor went barging in, he would be the one in the wrong. He could be imprisoned or worse. But this powerlessness... No wonder they were all fractious.

"I think I should get back to my paintings," Loki said, really just desperate to get out of this room.

He almost ran up the stairs, into his studio.

His permanent studio now?

In theory, he could leave, he supposed. He wouldn't be the first to abandon a wife. But for what? Out of stubbornness? It wasn't like he could expect any money from Odin in that case, and he'd likely be labelled a danger to women, a seducer who had led Hela astray and then left her. His career would be in tatters.

He'd been painting Thor when he was last here, but he swapped out that canvas for the one of Hela. After all, this was not a portrait for marriage anymore. He could paint her as she was, as he saw her. As intelligent and ruthless and, yes, beautiful but so much more than that.

He started with the eyes. They were brighter than he'd painted them so far. Sharper perhaps.

It was like he was taken over by something, some passion, painting for his own pleasure for the first time in so long, not thinking of this as a commission even.

He had just stepped back to look at it properly when the door opened behind him, Frigga entering.

"Goodness," she said. "How striking."

"I'm glad you think so. And you seem... better."

"Mm. Well, the relief at the children being home safe has rather settled my nerves. A lot of shocks in quick succession seems to have taken the edge off."

"Not completely safe," Loki said, wiping off his brush. "Hela's married to me, after all. A penniless groom."

She paused, crossing the room, taking up a perch on the chaise.

"They bullied you into it, didn't they?"

Loki hesitated, unsure what to say. What to admit.

"It's done now," he said eventually.

He saw her sigh internally, her eyes closing in a long blink, understanding him completely.

"Well," she said eventually. "Hela could certainly have done worse."


	45. Stars

It turned out being a husband was unexpectedly exhausting. Hela and Odin seemed to have reached an impasse - or maybe it was Frigga's influence - and Loki found he was being more or less welcomed into all aspects of family life.

Dinner in particular wouldn't stop seeming strange. He wasn't used to eating around other people. And while the conversation was nice, engaging even, part of him missed that time alone.

Thor helped him move everything including furniture along to his new room, across the hall from his own, beaming all the while.

At least having him happy or amorous or otherwise at home was safe. Loki was increasingly concerned any time he was out of his sight. Somehow he couldn't put it past him not to do something stupid if he were to come across Surtur Brandt.

Well, not stupid perhaps, but something gallant and honourable and all those other things that were very attractive but would get him killed...

And while Loki found himself with allies in the form of their parents in this matter, he couldn't shake the feeling that Hela's confidence in their bravery and determination to be rid of their stalker meant she wouldn't mind taking the risk.

As such, he insisted on always being present for Fenrir's walks, which were growing longer as Hela deliberately took them down near to the tenant farmers. She wanted to be seen.

"Have you met my husband?" she'd say. "This is Mr Laufeyson, my husband. I'm married, this is my husband."

And the people who lived there would nod to him, congratulate them. Loki even saw the woman he'd danced with at midsummer - which seemed so long ago now - arm in arm with her sweetheart who seemed genuinely relieved to find him safely wed.

"Have you seen that stranger around recently?" Loki asked.

"Mm... Not for a while. Someone said they'd had some eggs stolen yesterday though and that's who they were blaming."

Petty theft. Stealing food. It could be Surtur but it could also just be youths. It was hardly conclusive evidence.

Still, it made him all the more wary every time they went out, doing his best to keep Thor safe primarily.

Having their rooms so close by on the other hand was one of the more surprisingly calming aspects of the whole thing. Loki had expected too much temptation, too much passion, but the reality soon became a far more gentle thing. After their card games or billiards in the evening - and, yes, Hela could absolutely wipe the floor with him still - he and Thor would often stay up a little later just chatting.

It was easier in his new room. There was a writing desk with a chair along with the one by the mirror that they'd brought along. Even if someone were to walk in on them, they were innocently sitting in chairs talking, sometimes taking a nightcap.

And, of course, that meant he got to see Thor's room too.

It was... lived in. Perhaps that was the kindest term for it. Clean, of course, thanks to the diligent work of the staff but a little threadbare. His curtains, for example, had clearly suffered years of being tied in a particular position, the fabric marked by it.

"Do you not close these at night?" Loki asked as they sat together, not so subtly looking at his book collection. Lots of adventure stories. Far off lands.

"Only in winter when it's cold. I like looking out at the stars at night at this time of year."

"Do you know your constellations?"

"Most of them. Or some, I suppose. I like Orion. That was one of the first ones I learned."

He knew several more. The usual ones. The plough, the small plough, Cassiopeia...

And maybe a tiny part of Loki was experiencing a degree of... softening or warming towards him. A man looking to the stars and to distant lands but who ultimately had the world on his doorstep, or at least everything he needed.

Even a lover. A partner.

Was that what he was, truly?

That was a dangerous admission.

He softly kissed Thor goodnight and crossed the hallway, blushing himself to sleep.


	46. Tension

Oh, dear.

Oh, no.

Somehow, despite all of his best efforts, Loki suspected he was starting to feel deeper feelings than he had ever meant to.

Was it because he felt more secure in their future now? He'd more or less decided to accept his fate and stay. Was that why these emotions were now rising up within him?

And was it even love? How were you meant to know? Yes, he cared about Thor and found him good company, but was that anything more than a strong attachment? He really wasn't sure.

He became strangely jumpy. It was different to the spark of attraction and more like a deep, strong desire to...

Well, he wasn't quite sure. To make Thor smile? That wasn't exactly difficult. He smiled readily, laughed almost as easily. It was hardly a challenge and yet he wanted it so badly.

Loki found himself obsessed with trying to give his portrait more depth. Not just a handsome man, but more of his personality. That gentleness despite his bulk, that zest for life. Apollo in every way - god of music, dance, the sun, protection.

And speaking of which...

"What will you do if you come across Brandt on the estate?"

Thor shrugged over a cup of tea, spending time with Loki as he painted some details on Odin's portrait.

"I'll tell him to leave our property."

"But what if that doesn't work? What if he attacks you? Do you have any weapons?"

A scoff, Thor flexing his left hand.

"Only if you count my fists," he said. "I'm pretty sure I can handle an old man."

"And if he has a knife? Because he will have a knife if he's living in the woods."

"Do you think I should have a knife?"

"No, what if he takes it from you and stabs you?"

How could he laugh? At a time like this, how could he laugh?

"Loki," he said, getting up and refilling both their cups. "I will be careful."

"Will you?"

"Yes! I promise."

"Because I can't face the idea of being here without you, alright? I can't. So just... don't put yourself in danger."

Thor kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Drink your tea," he said. "You need the hydration."

Of course it was typical of Loki's life that the drive to keep Thor safe and inside did exactly nothing to prevent the eventual crisis.

It was a Thursday afternoon. Loki was already thinking about the evening walk with Fenrir, the routine he'd gotten into with Thor and Hela, working on some highlights in his portrait of Frigga.

She was sitting with him too, the two of them and Thor enjoying a quiet afternoon, chatting about this and that. Thor was reading one of Loki's books. He kept talking about how they ought to have more shelves, a library perhaps. It was sweet, really, seeing him excited.

Loki was wiping some yellow paint from his brush, the perfect shade for the centre of a heartsease and the shine on a wedding ring, when Frigga dropped her teacup, shards of china flying everywhere.

He'd thought he knew what fear looked like, but he'd had no idea. The wide eyes, the parted lips, the shrinking back.

And Thor too, the way he leapt to his feet immediately, the instant drive to protect his mother, and he knew. He knew before he turned round.

He'd trained his eyes over years of work to take in details all at once.

The eyebrows were, indeed, very striking. Larger than most, but it was the scowl that made them so prominent. Hair that was not so much streaked with grey as streaked with copper, the faint hints of its previous shade. Scars. A hard life written on every inch of his face.

And then Loki took in the gun. The way it was pressed to a terrified maid, trembling, her face marked with tears, the thick fingers bruising her jaw and stifling her whimpers.

"I didn't crawl back here for nothing," Surtur growled, a rough voice, like his throat had been scarred by years of drink and shouting.

"Surtur, please," Frigga said, her trembling voice betraying her fear. "Please, just leave. No one has to get hurt."

He laughed, a strange crackle of a bark of a laugh, cocking his pistol.

"I told you once, darling," he said. "If I can't have you, no one can. You've made a fool of me for the last time."

Composition is all about angles. Loki took in the distance from the door to the chaise, the difference between standing and sitting, how Surtur would aim for the heart, how Thor would move and be hit in the stomach and likely be killed.

Which meant he needed to stand...

Here.


	47. Mortality

Evidently, his calculation had been slightly off. Or maybe Surtur was a bad shot.

The bullet entered Loki's body at his right hip, not that he knew it in so many words. He was far more aware of the pain, the agony, yelling out and falling to the floor instantly.

He would rather have liked to be more active in the ensuing skirmish happening just in his line of sight, but he was rather incapacitated by the absolute agony of a fast piece of metal tearing through his flesh.

The maid, to her credit and despite her tiny form, punched Surtur in the throat, an evidently unexpected attack that threw him off balance enough for Thor to barrel across the room, striking wildly, the gun skidding off into a corner.

There was a ripping sound, Frigga tearing a length of her embroidery fabric, rolling Loki onto his back and using it to put pressure on his wound even as he screamed in pain.

"I know," she said. "I know, I'm sorry, but we need to stem the bleeding."

The first he knew of Hela's arrival was Fenrir barking and then a yell and some growling and then there were far too many people in this room all of a sudden.

Hela loomed over him, wearing the green portrait dress, uncharacteristically panicked.

"No, don't," Loki said, his head swimming. "You'll get blood on it."

"I hardly think that matters!"

"Go downstairs. Bring up the whisky and the brandy," Frigga said. "He'll need them."

There was some scuffling happening out of Loki's vision, but by the sound of it Thor was winning. Trying to look hurt too much, Frigga trying her best to soothe him as he groaned.

After what felt like hours, Hela returned with the decanters, Frigga pushing one to his lips - whisky, he thought - and pouring the other over his body.

"Get my sewing bag," Frigga said. "Find my sharpest needle and some strong thread."

"Have you got the bullet out?"

"I fear it went through him."

Loki didn't know. Everything about his right side was agony. It might well be two wounds. And by Frigga's words, things were going to get worse before they got better.

"Thor?" he said weakly as Frigga cut off part of his clothes and treaded her needle. "Thor?"

"Yes?"

That precious face. That perfect visage, a hand holding his, squeezing tightly.

And he might soon bleed to death, he might pass out, it might be his last chance...

"I love you," he said.

Thor smiled, tears in his eyes.

"I love you too."

And then all he could comprehend was pain.

Somewhere along the line, he must have fainted, waking up on a couch still in agony, groaning. His eyes fluttered open to a vision of Thor, his face so, so close.

"Loki?"

"Mm... What happened?"

"Mother sewed you up."

"No, I... I meant with Brandt."

"He attacked Fulla as she was taking out the chamber pots, forced her to let him into the house. He must have been hiding out there, waiting for someone vulnerable."

"You... You fought him."

"Well, it wasn't so hard. Heimdall helped, and Fenrir savaged him a little. You're the one who stepped in front of a bullet."

Loki tried to sit up but couldn't. Too painful.

"Where is he now?" he mumbled.

"Well, once Heimdall had tied him up and gagged him with the curtain ties, he and Father took him down to the village hall. They'll be waiting for the constable now."

Loki gazed up at the ceiling, the beautiful plasterwork up there.

"It seems too easy," he said.

Thor laughed incredulously.

"Loki! You got shot! That whisky must really have gone to your head. Oh, and look at this."

He moved, letting Loki see the room, the devastation. The floor was wet where someone had cleaned up his blood, but he could still smell it.

Thor picked up the canvas from the easel, bringing it close.

"We think the bullet must have bounced off your pelvis because it ended up... here."

Sure enough, there it was, neatly lodged in the wooden frame, a hole in the corner of the painting where it had torn through it. It had taken out part of Frigga's dress.

"I can fix that," Loki said. "I can patch it. You'll never notice."

"Hm. I think we should keep it like this," Thor said. "These are meant to be our history and this is part of it. The day you saved my life and Mother's."

"I just stood in the wrong place."

"If you say so. Anyway, now you're going to rest and get better and we can get on with our lives, free from awful men trying to attack us."

He made it sound so simple.

Loki fell asleep again with Thor running his fingers through his hair.


	48. Exposed

"So, how long had this been going on?"

It was Frigga speaking, softly, evidently trying not to wake him.

"A while," Thor said. "Since quite soon after he arrived."

"And does Hela know?"

"It was her leverage to force him into the marriage. The risk of exposure."

Ah. So she knew the truth, then. Maybe that declaration of love that was bobbing around in his memory had tipped her off.

"And does he make you happy?" Frigga asked.

"More than I can say."

"It's just that last time..."

"This is nothing like that."

She sighed lightly.

"Alright. Well, be careful. Your father might not be quite so understanding. But if you will be happy together, then I can only wish you all the best."

"Thank you. I may ask your advice sometimes."

Loki pretended to be asleep so long that he drifted off again.

The next time he woke up, Thor had brought him some soup, all warmth and nourishment. And even though he insisted that he could manage, he had to submit to being fed.

"I'm going to bring down a proper mattress," Thor said. "Or we can try to climb the stairs if you want. However you're most comfortable."

"Hmm... I think I'd like to try getting upstairs. And maybe into some pyjamas..."

It took a long time. Every motion seemed to aggravate his whole body, trying not to groan too much. After the stairs, the flat corridor was a great relief, finding the carpet beautifully soft beneath his feet.

Despite having had the area over the wound neatly cut off, getting out of his waistcoat and shirt, even with Thor's help, was a long, painful process.

Kisses helped a little, but even then, Loki was glad to be tucked up in bed wearing his nightshirt. How Frigga had managed to bandage him up was beyond him.

"Can I get you anything else?" Thor asked.

"Maybe some tea?"

A smile, so pleased to be helpful.

"Of course."

It wasn't Thor who brought the tray, though.

It was Odin.

He entered the room backwards, awkward, clearing his throat slightly. With some difficulty, Loki managed to sit up; after all, having Thor help him was one thing, but Odin was something else.

"Thank you," he said, accepting the cup.

"I, er... I rather feel it is I who ought to be thanking you, Mr Laufeyson. You saved my family today. I'm truly grateful."

Loki could feel his cheeks heating, embarrassed by all this fuss.

"It would have been terribly ungallant of me to do otherwise," he said.

"Not many would have had the presence of mind to act. I am honoured to have you as my son-in-law. And as for your... relationship with Thor... Well, I suppose this shows I can trust you to have his best interests in mind."

It was only force of habit that kept his cup gripped in his hand.

"I... I didn't realise you knew."

Odin smiled a little, somewhat grim.

"My family seem to forget sometimes that I do still have one functional eye. And Thor is not the best at hiding his feelings. I've suspected for some time."

"And you don't... object?"

He sighed a little, shrugging.

"My children are headstrong people. If I forbid it, I would only succeed in making him hate me, even though my desire is only to protect him. He was used badly some time ago by people who he believed cared about him and, alas, I don't think he quite realises it."

"No, I... I fear you may be right. But such things take time to come to terms with."

A hand was thrust forward for him to shake.

"Don't tell them I know," Odin said. "Sometimes it suits me to be thought unconscious of certain matters."

"Of course, sir. Goodnight."

Loki finished his tea and carefully shuffled himself back under the blankets.

Considering he had almost died, the day had turned out really rather well.


	49. Recovery

Thor's idea of helping people get better after injuries was a little overwhelming, not that Loki could complain about being too well looked after really.

He spent most of his time in his room at first, managing to walk a little, far enough to get to his ablution basin to shave and have at least a sponge bath and wash his hair.

A doctor arrived on the second day, checking his wounds and complimenting Frigga's excellent stitchwork.

"They'll have to come out in about a week, maybe ten days," he said. "But the initial healing seems good. Keep changing the bandages and you'll be fit again in no time."

Loki honestly wasn't so sure. Even as time went on, he had good days and bad days, sometimes the pain leaving him unable to get up for more than a few minutes, sometimes able to hobble downstairs to eat with the family.

Even Hela was worried about him, though she pretended it was purely self-interest.

"After all," she said. "A widow can always be remarried. If you'd died, I've had ended up right where I started."

Fenrir seemed to have developed a fondness for him though, often sitting beside him when he made it down to breakfast, wagging his tail and laying his head in his lap for ear scratches.

That was exactly how they were on the morning that Heimdall entered with the morning post, including an emergency dispatch from London, the letter opener in Odin's hands immediately.

They all stared at him as he read it, handing it over to Frigga without saying anything. Her eyes moved back and forth, watering slightly before she put it down, sighing.

"What is it?" Thor asked, reaching for her hand, always desperate to know things instantly.

"Brandt has been sentenced to death," Odin said. "Attempted murder, grevious bodily harm, breaking and entering, guilty on all counts."

Another sigh from Frigga, squeezing Thor's hand, shaking her head as she looked away.

"Good," Hela said. "It's the only way we can know we'll be safe. I don't see why you're upset."

"He was once my friend," Frigga said, her voice a little thick. "And even at his worst, I always hoped that he would find redemption and peace. And that chance is gone now."

Hela shrugged as Thor pulled his mother into an embrace, trying to comfort her.

Loki wasn't sure how he felt about it all.

His life had been irrevocably changed by his brush with Brandt, whether for better or for worse. For better _and_ for worse, really. He more or less had Thor's parents' blessing to continue his relationship with Thor, but on the other hand he was currently dealing with the worst injury of his life. Even with the stitches removed, he wasn't sure he'd ever be fully right again.

He couldn't stand long enough to work on the paintings and hours of leisure to read soon began to grate.

Thor brought him paper and would even pose for him, stripping shirtless to let him practise forms. Muscles.

How he wished that more vigorous activity was within his capabilities...

They sometimes indulged in more gentle pursuits. Thor was terrified of hurting him, but lying together and kissing, spending time lazily lounging among the pillows before reaching for each other's flesh held endless pleasures. It felt safe and familiar, especially knowing that no one would interrupt.

And gradually, Loki started to get better. Sitting up became easier and easier. He was able to walk for longer, even venturing outside.

Eventually, he felt ready to paint, heading up to the studio after breakfast to find his work carefully preserved from dust under some old sheets.

Along with a new, blank canvas.

He was frowning at it when the door opened behind him, Thor and Heimdall manhandling a mirror into the room.

"What's this?"

"Well, you're family now," Thor said. "So it makes sense that our portrait collection won't be complete without you."

A self-portrait? Loki had only ever drawn himself as practice, in the absence of other willing sitters. Isolated parts of himself, a hand, a brow, an eye, the utter peculiarity that was the human knee.

He stared at the blank space and hesitated.

"I think there's someone else I ought to paint first," he said. "Assuming you can be spared from your duties for a little while, Heimdall."

In the reflection, Thor beamed.

"Good idea," he said. "I'll order another frame for you."


	50. Home

"Loki. Come to bed."

"I will. I just want to finish this part."

Thor came up behind him, rubbing his shoulders and kissing his temple.

"It's dark, sweetheart. You'll only be cross tomorrow when you see it in daylight."

Hmm. He was probably right. The amount he'd learned about painting and especially Loki's style and preference in a short time was really quite impressive.

The first portraits had already gone to be framed. Hela's and Frigga's. And Hela had insisted on controlling the wording of the plate that would be placed on hers - _Portrait of the Artist's Wife, Lady Hela, and her Loyal Hound, Fenrir_

Odin had also insisted that the tear in the Frigga portrait must be left intact and visible, the bullet left in the edge. His desire for history and records had become the primary functions of the portraits and he was only too pleased when he learned of the new picture of Heimdall. He seemed happier all round now that his house contained decidedly fewer secrets.

Sometimes Loki forgot that nominally his and Thor's relationship was supposed to be one of the few left. Heimdall clearly knew, for one. And probably most of the maids.

Hell, Fenrir probably had some inkling of it even.

He carefully added some more gold to the lighter areas.

"Loki..."

"Alright," he said, wiping off his brush. "Alright, I'm coming. Calm down."

"Well, you wouldn't be calm either if you'd planned what I planned."

Hmm... Well, that was intriguing.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Thor was grinning at him, his arms sliding around his waist, over the scars on his side.

"Well, now that you're well and truly completely healed," Thor said. "And only if you want to, I thought maybe we could... try something new."

"Oh, did you now?"

He said that like he wasn't excited. He'd been waiting for Thor to make the suggestion, waiting for him to ask, wondering how he would approach it. They had had a lot of conversations about mutuality and the importance of making decisions together and encouraging Thor to think about his own sexual desires and being unashamed of them.

And now here he was, asking, after being absolutely sure that Loki was recovered.

Well, really, how could he resist?

He let Thor take his hand, squeezing it lightly, blowing out the candles that, in hindsight, had not been lighting his work terribly well after all.

"Your room or mine?"

"Oh, yours I think," Thor said. "That was always the plan, I feel."

"Plan? What plan?"

"You showing me ecstasy beyond measure."

Gosh.

"Well, I hope I don't disappoint you."

"I doubt you could."

It was later than he'd realised. He'd meant to just get in a couple of hours' painting after dinner but the rest of the house seemed to have already gone to bed. Excitement bloomed in Loki's chest, the promise of a long-awaited want, for both of them.

But he shouldn't build it up so much. They'd only had that one practice after all and it had been some time ago. Things might not work right away.

And for one thing, he needed to ensure Thor slowed down a little, even if his eagerness was reassuring and endearing, trying to get them both out of their clothes instantly and not managing to undo any fastenings at all.

"Hey," Loki said, taking his hands. "Nice and slow, alright?"

"Sorry. I'm excited."

"Yeah. Me too."

A deep breath, calming down, kissing Loki's fingers.

And then he started taking off his shirt carefully. No rush. No torn buttons.

He'd seen Thor shirtless, even naked, so many times and yet it was still so exciting to have all that skin revealed for such a happy purpose and better yet to see Thor smile at him as he headed for the bed.

Right. Right, oil.

He never had used it in Thor's portrait. He hadn't ever got round to it. But maybe that was better, saving it for... a special occasion. And he ought to take his trousers off first so as not to stain them...

His heart practically bounced off his rib cage as he slipped onto the bed, trying to remain calm even as Thor kept smiling at him, so pleased to be sharing this with him.

He warmed the oil in his hands, coating his fingers liberally, crawling up between Thor's legs.

"If we don't manage, it's alright," he said. "We can try again another time."

"We'll manage," Thor said assuredly. "I've been practising."

"Practising?"

"Mm. With my fingers. Getting more used to it."

Loki's cock twitched at the idea of Thor carefully stretching himself open, preparing in advance.

"What did you use?" he asked, stroking Thor's skin, trying to help him relax.

"I may have... borrowed some oil. I know I should have asked but I wanted it to be a surprise."

"I think I can forgive you."

Thor sighed happily as one finger slipped into him, Loki trying desperately not to get too excited as he felt that heat, drawing on years of experience to keep himself steady.

All the same, it didn't take him as long as he expected to be curling two fingers into Thor's body. And... And that meant it was almost time, he would have to impress.

Oh, God, what if he'd forgotten how to make it good?

"Ready?" he asked, his voice more steady than he'd expected it to be.

"Wait," Thor said.

Loki looked up urgently.

"Are you alright?"

A grin, the warmth of such love upon him.

"I just wanted a kiss first."

Ah. Well, that he could do.


	51. Finally

Loki had heard of hearts soaring. He wasn't sure he'd ever experienced it personally before.

But kissing Thor and then reaching down, the head of his cock catching once before he began pushing inside... Maybe now, he knew how it felt. There was a closeness, an intimacy that he had never known.

He'd had sex with many people. People he'd liked and admired, loved even. But maybe... Maybe he'd never felt quite this way before. There was something else connecting them. History, perhaps. A longer relationship rather than the fleeting loves he'd known before. Loves cut short before their time.

Whatever it was, it was intense, a strange sound slipping out of his throat, his hips sliding forward until he was as close to Thor as physically possible, completely skin to skin.

They gasped at each other for a moment, overwhelmed, Loki gazing down into wide blue eyes.

"Alright?" he asked, breathless.

"Mm..."

"Thor?"

"It's a lot."

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"We can stop if you want..."

"Don't you dare. Just... give me a moment."

Loki tried not to move too much, just leaning forward to meet Thor's lips again, finding his fingers seized a little awkwardly where they held him up against the mattress.

And eventually, Thor let out a little sigh, relaxing slightly, nodding against Loki's skin.

"Alright," he said. "Alright, let's try."

Loki hesitated for just a moment, and then carefully eased his hips back a little and then forward.

He watched Thor's nostrils flare, his eyes tightening, stopping right away.

"Still alright?"

"It's intense, that's all."

"Not painful?"

"No. I'd tell you if it was."

Of course he would. They'd had that discussion, they'd agreed. They were going to talk about wants and be honest.

"So how does it feel?" Loki asked, trying another gentle thrust.

"Strange. But I like being full."

"Alright. Well, just tell me..."

"Mm..."

He'd changed the angle a little, a smile growing over his face.

"Is that better?"

"Ah!"

He was too beautiful, too wonderful, kisses irresistible. And with every kiss, a little more relaxation, a little more pleasure, a bone-deep warmth of being so intimate with someone so beloved.

Would it always feel like this? Maybe it would stop feeling quite so novel, but already Loki found himself looking forward to that. To knowing each other so well, knowing one another's bodies, knowing everything, every touch, every sound, knowing exactly how to express their love physically.

Let the years roll on. Let them grow old together, go through everything together, make decisions, laugh and argue and cry and love together.

Thor wrapped his legs around Loki's hips, instinctively, seeking what he wanted and what Loki was only too happy to give him, thrusting just a little harder.

He was being cautious but his desire made that difficult. His whole body was alight with it, with just wanting to be closer, deeper, more...

How had he ever denied this feeling? How had he ever pretended that this wasn't real?

And very little hiding. No more whispered hints, no more rush. Just all the ups and downs the future could bring to them.

Thor tried pushing a hand down between their bodies, bringing Loki back to the immediate present, sitting up slightly.

"Let me."

The clench when he wrapped his hand around Thor's cock almost undid him, his steady rhythm thrown off, knowing that Thor had noticed when he grinned and tightened all his muscles deliberately, making Loki keen.

"Be careful doing that," he said. "You'll... Ah! You'll finish this much too soon."

He said that, even as he began stroking, fast and determined, almost racing, knowing that his greater experience would give him the upper hand.

And sure enough...

Thor's whole body jerked, his mouth open around a sharp inhale and eyes wide for a second before closing in perfect satisfaction.

And that was all Loki needed to let go, gasping and shuddering before falling into Thor's arms. Held and loved. Safe.

"Was that what you hoped for?"

"Mm... Better."

Even the risk of waking up sticky and sweaty didn't detract from the warm realisation that Thor had absolutely no intention of going back to his own bed. And why would he? No one would catch them. They could do this without risk.

"I've never shared a bed before," Loki murmured.

"Me neither," Thor said. "But I think I'd like to."

He blew out the lamp, pulling the blankets over them both, his hand finding Loki's in the darkness.

"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" he whispered.

"I think so," Loki whispered back. "I really do."


	52. Immortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic, as so many of mine are, is stolen from Shakespeare. It's about discovering a portrait and finding it almost as convincing as the real thing.
> 
> _What find I here?  
>  Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god  
> Hath come so near creation?_
> 
> It seemed to fit.

"And through here we have the famous portrait room."

Fliss's feet hurt. Stately homes were fine and all, pretty, sometimes even interesting, but it was a hot day, her bag strap sticking to her skin.

But Simone loved them. And Fliss loved her, so she'd gladly walk around hundreds of old houses since it made her happy. She had the National Trust membership pass and everything.

And besides, there was also an art connection here apparently. Some little known painter had lived here. Possibly not her kind of thing, but you never knew.

She followed the tour guide into the blessedly cooler room, electric fans whirring in the corners, looking up at the portraits lining the walls. There was always something fascinating and the eyes of the former residents gazing out forever.

"Have any of you heard of Loki Laufeyson?" the guide asked.

A few raised hands. Fliss had heard the name in passing, but she wasn't sure she'd seen his work before. She was sure she'd remember if she had.

"He's particularly noted for his paintings of ordinary local life here, the residents of the village, but perhaps his grandest works are these family portraits."

The details stood out. Fliss half-listened to the story, the former soldier given a title, commissioning the paintings of his family, noting the delicate brushwork on the leaves of an outdoor scene, on the golden hair of the second baronet. It was a striking picture, direct and confronting, but warm too. There was a laughter in those eyes, a real sense of motion.

"During this time, he entered into what is now widely considered a marriage of convenience by eloping with this woman, Lady Hela, shown here with the first of her beloved dogs."

Fliss was used to portraits of women looking pretty and not much else, but this was a better one. She looked out of the frame with intensity, almost daring the viewer to look at her. Not a passive object to be looked at.

"Do we know it was definitely a sham marriage?" asked one of their fellow tourists asked. "I mean, she is beautiful."

A smile, a conspiratorial lean.

"Upstairs, we have some letters from Sir Thor to Mr Laufeyson that reveal a rather different relationship to that of brothers in law. According to other records and diary entries, it seems to have been something of an open secret. Sir Thor's wife certainly knew from the beginning. She's here, Lady Jane."

Fliss half expected some cruelty here, some kind of dislike for the woman who married the man he loved, but there was none she could see. Lady Jane was surrounded by scientific instruments, telescopes and charts, stood by a window with Orion clearly visible in the night sky.

"It's a little unusual," she murmured. "A night time portrait."

"Yes, indeed. She's represented here as Nyx, the goddess of the night. She was a passionate scientist, though her works in astronomy are only now reaching a wider audience. She wrote many books on the subject. Her marriage gave her financial security to pursue her passions."

It was a good arrangement. And the relationship between husband and wife must have been friendly enough since the next picture was of their son, Modi, the third baronet, a great patron of the arts and sciences.

"And here," the guide said. "A very interesting portrait, the family's butler, Heimdall. It's rare to have someone of this class portrayed so finely, especially with his name recorded. We're very lucky to have it."

Dignity practically shone from the canvas. Here was a man in control. The stoic expression belied a warmth in astonishing golden eyes. And, yes, in all her years of art history, Fliss could only think of a handful of other pictures of household staff and none on this scale. Interest really was beginning to pique in the back of her mind.

"Finally, the man himself, Loki Laufeyson. Now, here, he paints himself with hyacinths, evoking Hyacinthus, a lover of Apollo - you'll have noted that the painting of Sir Thor has many motifs associated with that particular god. Note where his hand is placed upon his side. He's covering the site of a bullet wound. The family were attacked by a spurned suitor soon after his wedding. If you noticed the tear in the portrait of Lady Frigga, that's from the bullet and we have here a photo of where it still sits behind the frame."

How did people find the time to have such interesting lives?

She was still admiring the final painting when a little brush of fingers made her aware of Simone's presence. She was always so elegant, able to practically glide about silently. It sometimes made her feel very cumbersome. Cumbersome but lucky.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Can we see some of his other stuff somewhere?"

"I already pencilled in a trip to the local gallery."

Of course she had.

"I just can't believe I had barely heard of him before. I'd like to look into him."

"Mm. And you are still looking for a subject for your Master's. You never know."

She looked up at the self-portrait once more before they followed the tour group. The little smile. The relaxed stance. He looked happy. Comfortable.

"Yeah," she said. "Definitely worth considering."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I hope to be back soon. I'm working on another fic, but it's still in the early stages.


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